


Meet Me At Derry's

by krelboyne



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Age Difference, Fluff, Homophobia, M/M, Maybe angsty, Modern AU, coffee shop AU, slow burn baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-04-23 14:11:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19152652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krelboyne/pseuds/krelboyne
Summary: 'Eddie’s day got a little more interesting some time after 3pm when a stranger strolled into the shop.'age difference AU meets coffee shop AU. // Richie takes a much-needed break from his life in L.A. and returns home to Derry. Eddie spends half of his time working at Derry Coffee and the other half dreaming of skipping town.





	1. Road To Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> as mentioned, this is an age difference au, with an older Richie and younger Eddie. this is also set in the modern day, 2019.

Richie “Records” Tozier, of Los Angeles’ esteemed KLOS radio station, sealed the cardboard box full of his personal belongings and, when nobody was around to witness it, took one final 360-degree spin on his chair before bellowing into the currently ‘off-air’ microphone:  
  
_"Goooood Evening, ladies and germs! You’re tuning into KLOS Radio with Richie “Records” Tozier, and tonight, we’re rocking it back to the future with Richie’s Rockin’ Eighties! So don your shoulder pads, back-comb that hair and get that air guitar ready…”_

He mimicked a guitar solo, arms flying around with great exaggeration and a look of sheer concentration on his face. When he brought this moment to an abrupt end, he smiled at his familiar work-space, feeling a sudden wave of sentimentality overcome him. Richie got to his feet and lightly slapped his face a couple of times to knock some sense into himself.

“Dammit, Richie,” he muttered as he lifted his box of belongings, “you haven’t been fired, you’re just taking a break. A _voluntary_  break. You know you need to do this.”

Richie’s eyes scanned the studio and he found himself staring and taking everything in, as though it would be the last time he was standing there. But it wouldn’t be.

“I’ll see you again soon, buddy.” He spoke to nothing in particular, but was sure the room was listening. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

With that, he switched off the lights and chose to take the three flights of stairs down to the building’s main reception, walking straight past the elevator doors. He stopped briefly to say goodbye to any familiar face along the way and finally, upon reaching the reception area, signed himself out and left through the automatic glass doors.

His car was parked in his usual allocated spot - the far end of the parking lot - and he said his usual, “thank God my legs still work”, as he began the stretch toward it.

Two goodbyes down, one to go.

* * *

Earlier that day, Richie had called in to his parent’s home. Like him, they lived in Beverley Hills - a move encouraged by Richie when his career finally kicked off and he came into money. Derry was a dead-end town anyway, and he hated having to leave his parents there. The least he could do was bring them out to Cali, where they could live nearby in a brand-new home courtesy of their charming, perfect, generous son. The exact words he used when he made the phone call announcing this surprise. There had been only minor reluctance from the pair of them; his father insisting that he shouldn’t spend his money on them, but all three of them knew he had more than enough money to throw around. When it came down to it, his parents were thrilled to be living close to their son again. Their son, and his lovely girlfriend. 

This would be the hardest goodbye. The previous two - work and his family - were merely temporary see-you-later’s. This one, however, was a big, fat so-long-see-you-never, and it was totally not through choice. On his end, at least.

Richie Tozier and Charlotte (though she preferred ‘Charlie’) Lowe, had been dating since they met in 2013. At that time, Richie had been twenty-six years old, and his slot on KLOS was entering its toddler years. Charlotte was twenty-four and stunning. The first thing he’d noticed about her was her smile; the way her eyes would light up each time she laughed. And she did laugh, plenty. Richie figured that was what she fell in love with first; his ability to make her laugh, no matter how she was feeling. During the next six years, the laughter peaked then started to roll down a steady slope until, Richie realised, her smile no longer touched her eyes.

For a while, Richie denied all warning signs that screamed ‘the end is nigh’, and continued as normal. Yes, he couldn’t deny that their time together had become a predictable routine: they’d eat breakfast together, Charlie would leave for work, he’d leave for work in the evenings just before she’d be arriving home, he’d get home late from work due to his evening slot on the radio and, if she was still awake, they’d make love then sleep. Gradually though, Charlie would be up and out of bed earlier, eating breakfast alone and leaving without so much as a ‘goodbye’. She’d be asleep when he got home from work and if she wasn’t, one of them or both of them would wave off the sex because they were too tired. But still, he loved her and knew they were destined to be together forever. Deep down, he knew it.

So, despite all the warning signs, one December night, Richie’s life was pulled from beneath him like that table-cloth magic trick, except he didn’t stay standing. He fell right along with it.

Charlie broke the news that she was leaving him just a few days before Christmas of 2018. Richie thought this was pretty cold, considering a fortnight earlier they’d been decorating their apartment together, singing Christmas songs and feeling merry as ever. Hell, he’d even thought that maybe, just maybe, things were looking up. Richie supposed she was so damn happy because she knew she wouldn’t be around him for very much longer.

And just like that, he was spending Christmas at his parent’s home because, although he technically owned their apartment, Charlie had nowhere else to go, and he always was a bit of a pushover when it came to her.

According to Charlie, things were different between them, and Richie couldn’t say that that was a lie. She was leaving because their work schedules were inconvenient and didn’t leave much time for them to see each other. And even when they did see each other, she felt there was a block between them that had never been there during the early years of their relationship. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Richie wondered whether she had started seeing somebody else, or had met somebody who had brought that spark back to her ocean eyes. The spark he once ignited himself, so naturally and powerfully that the pair of them seemed to be made for one another. He’d lost that power somewhere along the way, and though he racked his brains til his head was sore, he wasn’t quite sure where he’d left it and how it had escaped him in the first place.

Christmas had passed and, several serious conversations later, Charlie confirmed her decision and told him she’d be moving out as soon as possible. Richie being Richie, as heartbroken and angry as he was, told her to take her time until she figured things out. She could have the apartment for now, he’d stay with his parents. He even offered to help her out financially. He could, after all, simply buy her a new place. But she wouldn’t allow that and firmly shut his idea down. She wanted a fresh start, so what good was moving into a new home bought by her ex-boyfriend?

All the while, Richie was still working at the radio station but felt himself rapidly losing interest and the motivation to drag himself out of bed in the morning. Thirty-two years old, fairly wealthy and _relatively_  famous, yet living back at home with the ‘rents while his ex-girlfriend had their apartment indefinitely. Yeah, he wasn’t feeling very inspired to say the least, and found his work growing more and more difficult. The one thing he’d always been able to count on, and yet, being there at this time just didn’t feel quite right. He’d lost interest in eating too, and showering for that matter. His mom, kinda like the old days, had to remind him to take one from time-to-time. He felt like a walking disaster. A mid-life crisis that had begun prematurely.

A week or so into the new year, Richie made a big decision. He would take a break from his work for several months. He would take a break from L.A., from his friends, from his ex-girlfriend who was still in his apartment while he slept in the spare room of his parent’s home. The idea came to him spontaneously one morning, and as soon as it appeared, he couldn’t seem to shake it. In fact, the idea only bloomed, and he figured out exactly where he had to go and what he had to do. If he stuck around here any longer, he was sure he’d go insane. It was safe to say he was somewhat losing his mojo when it came to talking on the radio. His mind was always somewhere else, and the charm he carried in every announcement, every conversation and every joke, didn’t seem to come as naturally as it had his whole life. Music itself didn’t sound as beautiful as it once did, back when he was happy and in love. Back when his life seemed to be thriving as opposed to dwindling away before his very eyes. Before he could fuck up any further, he decided a break was necessary. After all, the one serious girlfriend he’d had, the one serious love he’d experienced, was packing up and leaving him. How could he pretend he was okay with that? How could he make his audience happy when he felt miserable? And he refused to let slip that Richie ‘Records’ Tozier was hitting an all-time low.

Just a break. A few months to refresh himself, get back in touch with himself.

* * *

Richie reached his apartment and let himself in. For a moment, he thought the place was empty and assumed Charlie had already left for work. She knew he was going away for a while, and that he’d be stopping by to pick up more of his things. For a moment, Richie believed she’d avoided him. And maybe that was for the best. How many times could he take saying goodbye to the person he loved?

He found her, however, in the room they once shared, standing in front of the mirror and styling her hair. He watched her for a second as his presence had gone unnoticed. Charlotte was beautiful. Her blonde hair had been curled and swayed around her breasts in loose waves. After a few moments, watching her started to hurt a little too much, and he mentally confirmed to himself that yes, going away for a couple of months and keeping distance between them would be for the best. It couldn’t be any worse than this.

“Hey Charlie,” Richie muttered, entering the room as though he’d only just arrived. “Just picking up some stuff then I’m off.”

Charlotte fixed the slide she was working on, clipping one side of her hair back. “Richie, you know you don’t have to go away like this. I’m close to finding a new place, I promise. There’s this apartment I have a good feeling about.”

He listened to her as he grabbed some clothes from the closet, shoving them into a duffel bag that he’d brought along with him. “It’s not that, Charlie. I told you to stay here as long as you need to. I have no problem with that.” Maybe, deep down, he did. But he’d brought this situation on himself. “I just need some time away, that’s all. I’m sure you can understand that.”

“Of course I can.” But her words were empty and Richie’s chest grew tight as he realised that he was the only one hurting.

Richie busied himself on finding his things and figuring out what stuff he’d need. He had plenty of clothes now, but he needed things to pass the time. A couple of books and his portable record player would have to do, along with the things he’d packed that were waiting for him at his parent’s home. He carefully sealed some of his favourite records into their sleeves then began to pack up his car.

He took a deep breath as he walked back into his apartment. This goodbye would be the tough one. He knew that, whenever he did return home to Los Angeles, his job would be waiting for him, as would his parents. But Charlotte wouldn’t be here waiting. His apartment would leave no tell-tale signs that she’d ever been here. Her stuff would be gone, her scent would be gone, and she would be gone. In fact, it was a high possibility he wouldn’t even know where she was when he returned. He couldn’t think of a reason why she’d tell him her new address. When he returned, everything would be different and saying goodbye now made this whole thing official.

“I should get going. My cab will be at my parent’s in the next half hour,” he announced, fidgeting with his car keys and watching Charlotte as she crossed the kitchen towards him.

“Okay, Richie.” She smiled at him, but he could see pity there.

“Good luck with the apartment hunt.”

“Thanks. I’ll probably be gone in the next few weeks. Maybe I’ll call you to let you know?”

“Sure.” Richie nodded, then shoved his fumbling hands into his pockets. “Wow, I guess this is really happening, huh?”

Charlotte returned his nod, paused for just a moment, then confirmed. “Yes, Richie.”

He dithered for a moment longer, not quite knowing what to say and wondering if he should say anything at all. After all, what was he waiting for? A sudden change of heart? That possibility was way behind them at this point.

“Okay, well… I’ll see you around, Charlie.”

Richie didn’t wait for a response; knew that he’d be disappointed by whatever response she could offer, and left the apartment. Once he was in his car, he started the engine and began his journey out of L.A., away from Charlotte and away from his misery.

* * *

Derry, Maine was, indeed, a dead-end town. But dead-end, slow and predictable was exactly what he needed right now. Derry was the polar opposite to what L.A. had to offer, and Richie figured that could only be a good thing.

When Richie had brought his parents to California, he’d bought out their family home because there was a part of him that couldn’t stand the thought of anybody else living there. Perhaps it was stupid, maybe even selfish, but he’d always been the nostalgic type and hated parting with anything. He’d had too many good memories in that stuffy house, and hey, at least he was making use of it now. They’d left their old furniture behind, covering the sofa and the mattresses with dust sheets. Richie had always told his parents he planned to visit Derry again, and since they had a new place, there was no point in towing all of their old furniture along with them. He had intended to bring Charlotte to Derry with him, just for a few weeks or so, to show her the place he’d grew up in. It never happened, and it never would now.

He boarded his flight, thankful that it had arrived on time, and tried hard to relax as he waited for take-off. Once he was sailing through the sky, he put in his earphones and turned on his music. Ironically, Talking Head’s ‘Road To Nowhere’ blasted down his ears and he hoped to God that, as dull as Derry was, he’d find whatever it was he was searching for, and would come back to L.A. feeling like his old self.

The sky overhead was grey and cloudy. Richie waited outside of the airport in Bangor, glancing at his watch every couple of minutes before finally, a car pulled up in front of him.

“Richie Tozier?” The driver questioned, sticking his head out of the window.

“That’s me.”

The car parked by the curb was his now. Well, for the next few months. He’d decided that, despite everything in Derry being more or less walking distance, it would just make sense to rent a car in case he decided to go farther into Maine. Richie was sure that after a couple of weeks, he’d feel the need to explore a little. There was only so much of Derry a person could take.

He hit the road after packing the car with his belongings, and made the drive towards Derry. He’d taken the early flight from Los Angeles, so it was only late afternoon now, but god, was he hungry. Richie made a mental note to find somewhere to eat once he touched down in the town of Derry.

The drive itself was pleasant, though the grey sky ahead was growing more unpleasant with every mile the car made towards the town. It didn’t surprise him. Despite the many beautiful summers, the general greyness of Derry was something that had always stayed vivid in Richie’s memory of the place. Besides that, it was January after all, so what else could he expect? He turned up the heater in the car and sped onward, appreciating the tree-lined roads that seemed to wind and curve the whole way there.

Derry looked as bleak as ever once his car reached the town. The sky above was overcast, threatening rain. Richie hoped he’d be able to make it to his childhood home with time to unpack the car before it started. But still, food was his current priority. He drove along the small town roads, taking everything in, happy that things seemed more or less the same since his previous visit. It didn’t take him very long to find something.

A small building, painted a sombre maroon on the outside, stood at the end of the other stores that lined this particular road. In an even more sombre yellow, with the paint peeling, large letters formed to read “DERRY COFFEE” on the front of the building. Richie scoffed at the name of the establishment. He certainly couldn’t fault it for getting to the point, but did it lose points for lack of originality? Absolutely. His stomach grew more hungry the longer he sat in his car and although he could go for a really filling, hot meal right now, he supposed a large coffee and, with any luck, a cake or two, would be enough for now until later that evening when he would be unpacked and settled. He parked the car in the café’s tiny parking lot around the back of the building, then proceeded to head inside, checking his pockets for his wallet.

Richie had to admit that the inside of the building was far more impressive than its exterior. He had to admit that he hadn’t been expecting such a drastic difference. Like the outside of the café, the interior did have a more old-style, rustic theme, but rather than looking worn, it looked cosy. The low lighting and comfortable looking seats had a more welcoming feel than what the outside offered, and for that, Richie was grateful.

He located the cash register on the far side of the room, a direct walk from the door. There was only one customer before him and while he waited to be served, Richie scanned the chalkboard menu that hung on the wall behind the check-out, before directing his eyes to the desserts that were behind the glass counter in front of him. Everything looked delicious, and since he was hungry, he decided not to limit himself to just one thing. He would definitely go for the double chocolate chip muffin, but he was deep in thought, struggling to choose between the peanut butter cookie or the cinnamon cookie, when a voice brought him back to the real world.

“What can I get you today, sir?”

Richie’s head snapped up from the desserts and found a young man looking back at him. The first thing Richie noticed were the boy’s wide eyes, watching him expectantly. Then he noticed the smallest frown on his face, giving away his impatience.

“Just a regular coffee for me, kid.” He watched as the boy in front of him added the price to the cash register. “Oh, and one of the double chocolate muffins, please. And…” Richie paused, still undecided. “And… Maybe you could help me. Which is better - the peanut butter or the cinnamon cookie?”

The boy looked briefly startled when asked for his opinion, but after a quick moment, responded with, “the peanut butter, definitely.”

“Then peanut butter it shall be, my friend!”

Richie handed over the cash, waited for his change, then found a seat once the boy told him he’d bring it over. He chose to sit in an empty corner of the café, watching out of the window as the threat of rain turned into a promise. ‘Perfect’, he thought. Not quite what he wanted when he’d be going to and from the car later. He sunk back into his seat despite it all, and thought that he could get used to this. The café wasn’t incredibly busy, though there were a few customers dotted around. It was pretty quiet, besides some couples talking and the sounds of the hot drinks being made. Everything felt… slow, almost. Unrushed and unhurried. Simple. Right there and then, Richie was sure that he’d made the right decision coming here.

“Here you go, sir.” The boy who had took his order was standing by him now, placing the tray of goods down onto the table, slow and careful so as not to spill the coffee.

“Thanks,” Richie said cheerily, “You better be right about that peanut butter cookie, otherwise I’ll be complaining to your manager.”

The boy smiled at him uneasily, made a quiet noise that sounded like it was supposed to be a laugh. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Nah. This is just fine. Just what I need.” He beamed up at the boy from his seat, realised that this kid was the first person he had spoken to since reaching Derry and said, “Boy, is it good to be back here.”

Again, the boy smiled with some effort, quickly muttered “enjoy” and walked back to his place behind the register. Richie smiled to himself, amused. He’d always been comfortable talking to strangers and often forgot that this feeling was not always mutual. The boy couldn’t be more than twenty years old or so, and Richie couldn’t blame him for not wanting to hang around to chat.

The rain fell hard against the coffee shop’s windows, and Richie gulped down his coffee and ate his snacks, deciding that, actually, they tasted really good and it wasn’t just his hunger talking. He was sure he’d frequent this place during his stay here. He also decided that peanut butter was indeed delicious, and the boy who’d helped him had made a grand choice. So on his way out, he brought the tray that carried his empty coffee mug and dessert plates to the register, knowing that he didn’t actually have to, but feeling it was the least he could do.

“I could’ve grabbed those for you.” The boy said, but he smiled somewhat appreciatively.

“It’s not a problem. Might as well make the most of my legs while they’re still working. _Relatively_  working.”

This earned a light chuckle from Derry Coffee’s young employee.

Richie continued, “Besides, I needed to come tell you that you were so right about the peanut butter cookie. Be happy, my friend - for you won’t be fired today.”

The boy smirked and then, with an exaggerated roll of his eyes and sarcasm thick in his voice, retorted: “Thank God for that. I’d _hate_  to say goodbye to _this_ job.”

Richie laughed with an eagerness that betrayed his delight in having actual conversation with another human being since leaving L.A. that morning. And, of course, there was some mild surprise - pleasant surprise - that the boy had uttered more than two words to him.

“Ah, c’mon,” Richie teased, “it can’t be that bad.”  

The boy behind the register simply offered a glare that Richie took to mean _‘you have no fucking idea.’_

Richie shrugged in response. “I’ll take your word for it.” He pulled out his wallet, discovered he only had a bunch of notes in there, aside from his cards, and picked out a ten. “You take tips, right?”

“Not usually. We don’t have a tip jar, if that’s what you mean.”

Richie nodded, thinking as much. Derry was a relatively small town. When he grew up here, everybody knew everybody, and he assumed that had never changed. It wasn’t much of a surprise to learn that this particular establishment did not encourage tips. He briefly wondered just how many customers this place attracted anyway, and had the assumption that most of Derry’s adults would rather visit the bars, with a large percentage preferring to drink alone at home. This was, at least, what Richie could remember from his childhood.

“Well, jar or no jar, here you are.” Richie spoke in singsong, exaggerating the little rhyme he’d just conjured, and held the ten dollar note out to the boy who had turned an endearing shade of pink.

“I can’t take that.” He said promptly, glancing from the note then up at Richie.

“Of course you can,” Richie responded coolly. “You deserve it. I can only imagine how it must feel serving the residents of Derry for hours on end.” He offered a cheeky grin, hoping he wasn’t overstepping or offending. But hey, as far as he remembered, no kid loved living in Derry.

The boy laughed, then turned serious again. “Thanks, but isn’t ten dollars a little much? I thought tips were usually just a dollar.” He fidgeted awkwardly, pulling at one of his sleeves. “I couldn’t take that much money from you.”

“Please.” Richie urged with patience. “This is all I have in my wallet right now, and I wouldn’t feel right not tipping you. Besides, you helped me out with my cookie ordeal earlier _and_ you’ve put up with my jabbering extremely well. Seriously, I’m impressed…” He paused for a moment, then smirked. “Most people would’ve told me to shut the fuck up by now.”

This admission (or was it the cuss word?) caused the boy to raise his eyebrows in an expression of mild shock. Then he eased up and laughed. “It’s my job.” He quickly realised what he’d said and shook his head. “Not to say you were _jabbering _,__  I just meant the cookie thing.”

Richie smiled, amused. “Please, just take the tip. I appreciate your help today.”

After a pause and with clear reluctance, the boy accepted the paper note from Richie with a shy “thank you.”

“No problemo! Thank _you!”_ He pointed at the boy to further emphasise the ‘you’ he’d already verbally exaggerated, then stuck his wallet back into his jacket pocket.

“Have a good day, sir.”

“I won’t insult you by wishing you a good time here. But… I _will_  wish you luck.” Richie grinned as the boy’s shy smile grew bigger, then turned on his heel and left the shop.

The rain was still coming down heavy, drowning him the second he hit the side-walk. He rushed to the parking lot, fumbling for his car keys in his pocket, and let out a sigh of relief once he was inside. He turned on the engine and flicked on the heater, allowing the car to warm before setting off towards his childhood home.

On the way there, Richie neglected the radio, preferring a quiet drive. He briefly thought about the young boy who was working the register in Derry Coffee, feeling somewhat grateful for the friendly exchange. Growing up in Derry, he found a general unpleasantness among its inhabitants - excluding his good friends, of course. There was something about the place. Something sort of… unhappy and tedious. Monotonous and lifeless. He hadn’t been sure of what to expect coming back here as an adult, but after this brief meeting with the stranger who worked in the coffee shop, Richie felt more hopeful. Not that it really mattered. He was here to enjoy the quiet, for the most part. He was here for the isolation and to get away from the buzz of city life. And Derry was perfect for that. His wealth and mild fame had been made on the radio, and Richie felt sure that nobody here, in quiet, solitary Derry, would recognise him. Heck, he was sure they wouldn’t even recognise his name. That was good. He wanted to be left alone.

The thought of the boy in the coffee shop was very fleeting, and by the time Richie had pulled up in front of his old home, his mind was on thoughts of unpacking and settling down.

 

* * *

 

The boy who had served Richie Tozier, had been tipped by Richie Tozier, and had been thought about fleetingly by Richie Tozier, was Eddie Kaspbrak, and earlier that morning, on his way to work, he had gazed up at the grey sky and thought it appropriate as his mood was pretty grey, too.

The shift ahead of him hadn’t begun yet, but he knew it would drag by slowly. Everything in Derry dragged. He wanted to kick himself for agreeing to cover a sick co-worker’s shift, but he knew he needed the money and was in no place to refuse the overtime.

That being said, Eddie couldn’t deny the fact that he absolutely hated his job. He knew that it could be worse. Derry Coffee - or as the locals referred to it, “Derry’s” - was pretty standard. He knew what he was doing there, knew what was expected of him and had become used to the people he worked with. Predictability had always been his safety. But this was becoming a little too boring, even for Eddie, who took comfort in planning out exactly how he was spending each hour of each day.

Eddie had applied for a part-time job at Derry Coffee in 2015, when he was just sixteen years old and still at school. He’d always praised himself for being organised, and getting this job was the way he’d pay for university after graduating high school. It seemed like a great idea at the time, and even now, he supposed it had been. But almost four years later, several months shy of his twentieth birthday, Eddie remained at Derry Coffee, working full-time… and then some. Sixteen year old Eddie had picture nineteen year old Eddie’s life looking drastically different to this same-old walk and same-old stupid uniform. And with every soul-crushing hour spent fixing hot drinks for the people of Derry, Eddie became less impressed by his life, and less motivated to do a single thing to change it.

And yet, he _still_  found himself jumping at the chance to take on more hours, eager to see a rise in his monthly pay. He _still_  hid most of his earnings away in the same wooden box he’d used since he was sixteen, safe in waiting. He still had it in his mind that he would leave Derry one day.

If his mother would let him.

The day started off as predictable as ever, with Eddie’s regular customers walking through the door at the exact time he was expecting them.

Mr and Mrs Wooding, an elderly couple who lived a few doors down from Eddie and his mother, arrived early that morning at 10.30 for their coffee and bacon sandwich breakfast, which Eddie dutifully prepared before dutifully exchanging pleasantries with them. Harry Hayward, a middle-aged working man who had lived in Derry his whole life, made an appearance just before 12pm, ordering his usual lunch and making his usual complaints about the kids who are too busy looking down at their phones to watch where they’re walking. _“We never had that stuff growing up. Those were the good times.”_

Same old, same old. Eddie was glad to reach his lunch break at 1pm and retreated to the small staff room at the back of the café, taking a black coffee with him. He needed the caffeine. Today was slower than usual, and that was saying something. He supposed the weather wasn’t helping; the clouds heavy with the promise of rain and the breeze from this morning peaking to a howling winter wind. Eddie sipped his coffee and pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, briefly wondering what Mr Hayward would have to say about that. He wasn’t like those kids he complained about, though. Eddie couldn’t care less about social media or whatever the people his age fussed about so much. Essentially, his phone was used to contact his mother when they were apart. Or rather, for his mother to contact him - no, _pester_ him - when he was running late on his way home. But Eddie loved music too, and found comfort in listening to a song or two during his break at work. In a way, it refreshed him, encouraged him, almost. Made him feel, for a couple of minutes, like everything was okay. Life was as good as the song he played, as powerful as the voice that sang down his ears. And on top of all that, he didn’t quite mind writing. Anything, really. Poetry, stories, monologues, notes, ideas. So having his phone on him was quite handy when he felt like jotting a few words down.

This particular break time, however, was spent scrolling through different university prospectuses, envying the smiling students who posed for the photographs displayed on every web page he visited. He did this, from time to time. Threw himself back into his options, explored - from afar - just what he could be doing other than pouring latte after latte, mocha after mocha, cappuccino after cappuccino… But then, as always, reality would hurtle towards him like a fist to his face and ah, yeah, his mother wouldn’t want him to leave, wouldn’t let him leave her like that. And even if he had his mother’s permission, would he ever really leave?

It was at this point that he was called back and his break was over. Eddie figured this was a blessing in disguise. He’d rather be pouring drinks and slicing cake than be alone with his thoughts. At least he’d have to pretend to look busy. At least there’d be customers to serve and clean up after.

* * *

Eddie’s day got a little more interesting some time after 3pm when a stranger strolled into the shop.

He noticed the man immediately, although he was busy serving another regular before him. As he took the regular’s order and totalled the cost, he watched the man scan the drink menu and the desserts by the counter. Eddie was impressed by the sheer concentration on his face, and almost regretted the fact he had to break his focus while he asked him for his order.

Eddie decided that the man was… strange. Not necessarily in a bad way. Just in a non-Derry way. He didn’t quite fit in, and not just because he wasn’t a regular or somebody he was used to seeing around town. His hair was a dark mess of curls and his clothes were casual, laid-back. His jacket sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the shirt he wore beneath was creased. When he spoke to Eddie, he spoke attentively and watched him curiously. Eddie could feel himself squirm under the attention. This man was different, and wasn’t from round here. It wasn’t how he looked or how he spoke to Eddie like he was an actual person - it was his _aura._  Eddie thought this at the time and nearly rolled his eyes at himself for thinking like that. It sounded so dramatic and magical, but it was true. There was an atmosphere about this man, and he didn’t even have to say a word for Eddie to perceive that.

Before the man left Derry’s, they spoke. The conversation was odd, and Eddie realised that the man spent most of it trying to make him laugh. They spoke about cookies, about Eddie being fired from his job, and briefly about the people of Derry. When the man spoke about Derry, he sounded as though he knew the place well. And even if he did know Derry, he still didn’t fit in.

The stranger left the coffee shop after offering Eddie a generous tip. Eddie had felt uncomfortable taking the money, especially as it wasn’t just a dollar he’d found lying around in his pocket. But the man had insisted, and Eddie quickly came to realise that the man seemed as stubborn as him. One of them had to give in and Eddie had the feeling that it would eventually be him, so why prolong the suffering? He appreciated the gesture though - and found himself smiling as he watched the man walk through the door and disappear into the dark, rainy world outside.  

After that encounter, Eddie was buzzing and he wasn’t entirely sure why. He figured that, talking to the stranger felt so good because he __was__  a stranger. The older folk of Derry knew Eddie as ‘Sonia’s boy’, and the majority of his fellow youth simply dubbed him ‘momma’s boy’. And a certain group of boys had more derogatory names saved just for him. This stranger had been polite and funny, had carried a non-Derry vibe that pulled Eddie right in and the best part, he had no idea who Eddie was. He didn’t know his mother, he didn’t know that he had no friends in Derry since leaving school. He didn’t know the names those boys would call him any chance they got. Eddie and the stranger had been two people making conversation, and for the first time in a long time, Eddie had felt some mild degree of respect from somebody. Whatever this unfamiliar feeling was in his stomach, it felt good, and he pulled through the final hour of his shift with a level of enthusiasm he hadn’t felt in a long time. He didn’t even mind too much when he was asked to stay behind a little longer to clean up behind the counter.

He didn’t mind that, as soon as he stepped outside, the rain drenched him. He pulled his hood up and zipped up his coat, taking fast strides in the direction of his home. There was a smile on his face and Eddie didn’t even question _why_ , because that would just ruin it. He simply felt _good,_ and that was okay, right? For once, he was allowing himself to ride along with this high he was feeling.

Eddie was nearly home when he crossed paths with Henry Bowers. He’d taken a short-cut home, walking through the alleys behind the line of stores that decorated the side of the main roads and as he was approaching a string of houses just a few blocks down from his own, he saw Henry walking towards him.

He seemed to have simply appeared out of nowhere and Eddie gritted his teeth as he continued to walk forward, the distance between them growing smaller and smaller and smaller…

“Where you going, pretty boy?”

Eddie ignored his question and tried to walk ahead, hoping that, since Henry was without his gang of friends, he’d just leave him be.

“Didn’t you hear me?”

No such luck.

“I asked you a fucking question, Kaspbrak.”

“I’m going home,” Eddie responded reluctantly, stopping in his tracks. It was no use walking on. He figured Henry would follow him. It would be best to get this over with here, away from his home, away from his mother.

“Going home to mommy?”

Eddie said nothing. What was he supposed to say?

There was silence. It almost seemed as though Henry didn’t know what to say or do, now that he was alone with Eddie. As part of a gang, Henry was ruthless. Right now, it just looked like he was desperate to get out of this rain and Eddie was merely a burden.

“Why are you fucking staring at me?” Henry moved closer to Eddie, put a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Everybody knows you’re queer, Kaspbrak, but I’m not fucking interested. Got it?”

Eddie wanted to say a lot of things that would probably result in him having a broken nose, so he simply rolled with it and meekly whispered, “got it.”

Henry moved away and, for a split second, Eddie thought the confrontation was over so turned on his heel and made away quickly. But then he was pushed with force from behind and was suddenly eye-to-eye with the side-walk, his face throbbing from the impact.

He lay limp for just a moment, dizzy and defeated. He should have been expecting that. It wasn’t the worst thing Henry could have done or had done before, and for that, he was the smallest fraction grateful.

 _It could have been worse, it could have been worse,_  Eddie thought to himself as he lifted his head and then slowly stood, his knees wobbling. The right-side of his face had hit the ground and felt as though it was on fire. He was also aware that he was soaked through from landing in the rain puddled on the side-walk. Water from his hair dripped into his eyes and down his face, and his trousers clung to his legs.

“Fuck,” he mumbled to himself, looking at the palms of his hands that were scratched from the fall.

Eddie continued his walk home with a stinging face and an ankle he was certain was swollen. He was sure he looked grubby and pathetic, so walked with his eyes downcast, hoping to avoid any attention from people passing by. The streets were mostly empty, however, and once he got to his block, there was nobody around.

“I’m home,” he called out as he let himself in through the door. “Just need to change. I’m wet from the rain.” He rushed upstairs as best as he could, careful not to put too much pressure on his sore ankle.

“Eddie?” His mother’s voice from the kitchen.

“Yeah, it’s me, mom! I need to get dry! I’ll be downstairs in a minute.”

He shut himself in his room, discarded his soaked coat to the floor and flopped down onto his bed. He didn’t give his bed-sheets one thought; couldn’t care less if he dirtied them or got them wet. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself. He was slightly shaken from the fall and now that he had a second to process everything, Eddie focused on stabling his pounding heart.

He knew he had to clean himself up before his mother saw him, so he didn’t hang around. Once his breathing had steadied, Eddie grabbed a clean change of clothes, crept to the bathroom and locked the door. The first thing he did was strip down to his underwear, tossing his wet work uniform to the floor and kicking it to one side of the room.

The January rain had soaked him through and he was frozen to the core. Eddie felt as though he’d never feel warm again, even when he fetched some towels to dry himself off and wrapped them around him. He filled the sink with warm water, finally daring to glance into the mirror that sat on the ledge above it. He sighed. There was a bloody graze on his right cheekbone, covered slightly by the muddy rain water that had splashed up on his face. He looked filthy, and his face still throbbed, but he was glad that he had only been grazed, not cut open.

With some hesitation, Eddie washed his face over the basin. The warm water made his cheekbone sting, but it felt good to know he’d be clean again. The clear water in the sink soon turned grey with the mud from his face, and Eddie pulled the plug and let the used water run down the drain. He patted a towel against his face gently, careful not to apply too much pressure to the scuffs on his face. Another look in the mirror and another sigh. He wasn’t bleeding - _thank God _-__ but the grazes on his cheek were still vivid; bright red on pale skin. He knew he’d have to come up with something to tell his mother, and after applying antiseptic cream to the cuts, Eddie put on his dry clothes and trudged downstairs, preparing himself for the fuss his mother would cause.

* * *

Sonia Kaspbrak did, of course, make a fuss. She was nearly in tears at the mere sight of Eddie’s grazed face, even though Eddie knew it could have been much, much worse. He was sure his small surface wound would heal in the next two or three days and vanish completely before the weekend. Despite this, Sonia treated it as though it was the end of the world.

Eddie told his mother that he had taken a short-cut on his way home from work - which was the truth. He explained that, since the ground behind the stores was so uneven, large puddles had collected there - muddy puddles. Also the truth. Eddie only lied when he recounted the final part of his story. As he was walking, he was faced with a huge puddle and no way around it. So, he tried to jump over it. When he landed on his feet, he slipped on a patch of sludge and went sliding. Hence, his scratched cheek.

She bought his story, but forbade him from taking that short-cut home when the weather was bad. Eddie wanted to remind her so badly that he was nearly twenty years old and that, hell, accidents happen and there was a fifty-fifty chance of him falling, no matter which route home he took… But he simply agreed, instead.

After eating dinner with his mother and watching some television by her side in silence, he excused himself and retreated to his room for an early night. It had been a long day, and Sonia didn’t question him about it. Feeling he’d had a lucky escape, Eddie rushed upstairs and closed his door before she could change her mind.

He undressed and found some clean pyjamas, still feeling cold from his time in the rain. Before he got into bed, he rummaged through his backpack to find his phone and came across the ten dollar tip from the stranger with the dark mess of hair and the grin that reached his eyes. Eddie found himself smiling for the first time since bumping into Bowers. He added the note to the cash he was keeping to one side, then climbed into his bed and pulled the duvet around him.

Instead of focusing on his interaction with Henry and the scrapes on his face, Eddie was lulled to sleep by pleasant thoughts of this unexpected encounter with this unexpected stranger. There was something about him. Eddie couldn’t quite place it. But there was something. He fell asleep wondering if he’d ever see the man again.


	2. Two Steps Back

The bedroom was dark, and there was a sharp chill in the air. The light that filtered through the blinds in the window was weak and dull. It was morning, but it could have been night. Apart from the steady snoring rising from the double-bed in the centre of the room, there was a silence so heavy, this could have been a bedroom in a lonely corner of space. But this was Derry, and when Richie’s alarm sounded harshly, breaking the quiet, it was a sobering moment and he realised that, yes, he was in Derry and what in the world was he doing _here?_

Richie turned his alarm off, sat up in bed, then checked his phone. January 16th. Wednesday. 7am. He ran a hand over his tired face. His surroundings were alien to him and his vision was blurred. He reached out for his glasses, put them on, and tried again. His vision was stronger this time, but the environment around him was still foreign, unfamiliar. His glasses helped none.

Sitting in the cold dark, in a too-empty bed that sat in a room that once belonged to his parents, Richie realised that his plans to leave home for Derry had been rash. Rash was an understatement. Perhaps he had been out of his mind. How could coming back to Derry cure his heartbreak and restore his passion for… well, anything in his life? Richie had been so sure, that one morning he’d woken up in his parent’s home, that this was the answer. The only possible solution. A break away. And not to any place fancy or interesting, but somewhere familiar and simple. Now, waking up here in Derry, in his childhood home, he figured this had been the _worst_  idea. He couldn’t see one advantage about it. He briefly wondered how his parents, how Charlie, could have allowed this. Had they not worried that he was going insane?

He sat for a while longer with the duvet pulled around him tightly. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach and a tension that weighed heavily upon his chest and shoulders. Yesterday, Richie had been so sure of himself. Today, he felt himself start to panic and, when he felt that, he told the empty room, “no. No, no, no. I’m not doing this.” He tossed the duvet back and braved the icy room, his feet moving swiftly towards the bedroom door, cold on the wooden floorboards.

The kitchen wasn’t any warmer, but it was that bit brighter. Richie rushed to get the heating on and then headed straight for the shower, allowing the hot water to wash all his doubt away. He wasn’t insane. Coming here was perfectly reasonable. He’d needed a break and anybody could see that. His parents had been supportive of his decision, his manager hadn’t seemed too surprise to hear he required some time off. Leaving L.A. hadn’t been crazy - he’d left to keep himself from _going_  crazy.

By the time Richie had showered and dressed for the day, the house had warmed up and his mood had too. Sure, Derry was small and, for lack of a better word, fucking _boring _,__  but he’d figure it all out. He’d make it work. And even if he was destined to be miserable for the next couple of months, he had no intention of swallowing his pride and going home early. That’s not how Tozier rolls.  
  
It was a strong yearning for coffee and a lack of planning ahead that saw Richie pulling into the parking lot behind Derry Coffee for the second time. Basic groceries - how could he forget? He’d spent the previous evening pulling dust-sheets from furniture and cleaning up the house, not sparing a single thought for the fact he’d wake up in a house with an empty kitchen. He needed coffee, and he needed it fast.

Richie was delighted to see the familiar face behind the cash register, frowning as he scrubbed away at the counter, tackling a seemingly stubborn stain. The boy was so focused he didn’t hear the door opening - or he simply didn’t care. Richie walked slowly towards the front counter, looking around at the empty tables and chairs. He was the only customer here, and wondered if he was the first. The boy, still completely oblivious, continued to scour away at the surface.

“Show no mercy, boy!” Richie cried enthusiastically - and loudly.

“Shit!” The boy retorted on automatic, jumping out of his skin.

Richie was standing at the cash register now, tapping his knuckles on the counter. “Good morning! Didn’t mean to interrupt that battle you’re having. Looks pretty intense.” He peered over the register to catch a glimpse of the offending grease-spatter. “Who’s winning?”

The boy, still holding his chest with his free hand, breathlessly replied, “put it this way, I’ve been going at it for the past twenty minutes.”

Richie tutted sympathetically, then gave the young employee a smile. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“It’s okay, I was in my own world. Nobody tends to get here before nine.”

“I hope I’m not a burden,” Richie was genuine, “I’m just craving some caffeine.”

“It’s no problem.” The boy put his cleaning equipment to one side. “I’ll just wash my hands then I’ll take your order.”

“Take your time…” Richie paused. “What’s your name?”

“Eddie.” The boy replied softly, giving a very subtle smile before he turned to the sink and soaped up his hands.

“Take your time, Eddie.”

* * *

Eddie felt dark eyes burning through his back. He washed his hands as quickly as he could, not wanting to keep the man waiting. He could hardly believe that he was here again. The stranger he’d fallen asleep to, just the night before. The non-Derry man with the messy hair and the laid-back attitude. The man who spoke to him and wanted to make him laugh. The man who didn’t know Sonia Kaspbrak or Henry Bowers. 

He dried his hands, then turned around. “What can I get you?”

His gut-feeling had been correct. The man _was_ looking at him, with that same expression of curiosity he’d exuded the day before. Eddie felt panic rise in his chest, and he suddenly felt the urge to rush to the back of the shop, grab his backpack and pull out his aspirator… but he was working on that. Learning how to stay calm, how to bring himself back down. But it was the stupid fear of somehow forgetting how to function, despite his years of experience at Derry’s. But what if he suddenly forgot how to make coffee, or how to count money? He felt as though, if the man continued to stare at him like that, it may just happen.

“Plain ol’ coffee, same as yesterday, please.”

Eddie added the order to the cash register. “Anything else, sir?”

“Nah. I can’t think about anything else until I’ve had my coffee.” He grinned and then, after a brief hesitation, added, “While I appreciate the ‘sir’ thing, you can just call me Richie.”

“Sure.” The tightness in Eddie’s chest began to ease. In its place, a warmth spread. “Feel free to grab a seat, Richie.” The name rolled off his tongue perfectly. “Any table. I’ll bring your coffee over once it’s done.”

Richie left the money he owed on the counter, and Eddie watched as the older man settled at the table nearest the cash register. His heart was beating fast as he prepared the drink. A small thing he’d spent too long doing, but it suddenly felt like a huge task. Like everything depended on this. In the back of his mind, Eddie knew that he wanted to impress Richie, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. He was simply certain that he didn’t want to mess up.

And of course, he didn’t. Richie’s coffee was made as successfully as any other coffee he made on a near day-to-day basis. He even managed to walk over to the table without tripping over his own feet and spilling the drink everywhere.

“Thank you,” Richie said softly, and Eddie could see that he was smiling at him, though he averted his own eyes and focused on placing the coffee down.

“You’re welcome. Are you sure I can’t get you anything else?”

“Tempting, but I’m sure.”

Eddie turned and began to walk away when Richie spoke again, stopping Eddie in his tracks.

“How’d you do that?”

Eddie was puzzled, his expression reinforcing his confusion. “Do what?”

“Your face.”

Somehow, Eddie had forgotten about the scuffs on his cheekbone, and now he felt self-conscious, positive that they must look hideous. “Oh.” He shrugged, trying to be casual despite feeling his face burn. “I fell.”

“Ouch! Clumsy, clumsy.” Richie was still smiling, the tone of his voice pleasant and teasing.

“Pretty much.” Eddie reddened. “Apparently heavy rain, muddy side-walks and running aren’t a good mix.”

“Hey, who’d have thought it?” Richie retorted with a playful smirk.

Eddie wanted to hide his face. Not just the scratches that blemished his skin, but his burning cheeks, too. He figured he wasn’t used to the attention - he _hated_ being the centre of attention, had always preferred to fade into the background and go unnoticed. But Richie’s eyes pierced him. And the way he spoke, like he was playing with him, made Eddie’s palms sweat. He could only hope he could keep up with him, because he didn’t want to give this feeling away. He didn’t want Richie to know he was feeling worked up and anxious, that he felt the need to run to the empty staff room and take ten deep breaths.

Before Eddie could reply, Richie continued, voice thick with teasing sarcasm. “I assumed you’d been fighting. You look the type, y’know. Look like you get into fights _all_  the time.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow but couldn’t keep a straight face at the sight of Richie’s grin. “You know me so well. I try to stay out of trouble but it seems to follow me everywhere.”

Richie laughed and Eddie tried hard to stop himself from beaming. After that, Richie let Eddie walk away, back to the counter, back to his fight with the persistent stain. And after that brief conversation, Eddie relaxed.

Derry Coffee was quiet and still. Eddie worked away, picking up where he’d left off with his scrubbing, while Richie sipped his coffee. Through discreet glances, Eddie saw that Richie’s attention flicked between his phone screen and the window he sat by. The silence they shared was comfortable, although Eddie usually hated when he’d be left alone with a single customer. This was different. Richie did his thing, let Eddie do his. Eddie didn’t feel the need to talk or entertain, to constantly check up on him like he would with any of his regulars. Richie seemed content sitting alone, drinking. Eddie wondered what he was thinking about.

It felt like a personal accomplishment when Eddie had cleaned the work-top and defeated the difficult stain, and he was quick to put away the equipment and wash the smell of cleaning products from his hands. This whole time, Eddie had been wondering about Richie and who he was exactly - why he was here, in Derry, all of a sudden. He’d been working up the courage to ask. It was a casual enough question, he supposed, and Richie seemed the type who’d be more than happy to chat away to anybody. Eddie figured it was really none of his business, but he knew that Richie wouldn’t mind.

He glanced at the messy-haired man from his place behind the counter, and found his eyes quickly being met with Richie’s own gaze. Eddie cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of the door opening sent him mute and his eyes quickly fell from Richie and fixed on the couple who were now walking toward him.

Eddie inwardly sighed, but put on his polite-face anyway and greeted the customers. After a considerable amount of humming and hawing, the middle-aged couple decided on their order and Eddie got to it right away. His mind was still with Richie and the question he intended to ask him, but his hands worked away skilfully; he didn’t really have to pay attention at this point. Eddie placed the order on the tray, turned to find the couple’s table, and was startled to see Richie’s seat empty. He walked past Richie’s table, dropped off the couple’s order, then returned to Richie’s table to collect the drained coffee mug.

He found himself feeling somewhat disheartened over Richie’s absence, disappointed that he didn’t say goodbye before leaving, and frustrated at himself for not noticing that he had even gotten up from his seat. Eddie had been intent on asking this stranger who he was and why he was here. For some reason, he just had to know. Perhaps it came down to knowing whether he’d see him again or not, and now, he had no idea. Eddie felt a sinking feeling at the thought of today being the last time he’d bump into this mysterious Richie guy, and he almost hated himself for placing such significance on this man he didn’t know. He knew deep down that he had a tendency to get attached to people who showed him the slightest bit of respect, and to people he actually enjoyed speaking to because, in Derry, that was a rare phenomenon. Eddie was smart, but at times like this, he sure felt dumb.

Feeling miserable, Eddie grabbed Richie’s empty mug and was about to walk away when he realised there was something left on the table. Beneath the mug, Richie had left another tip. Eddie smiled. Not because of the money that Richie had left for him, but the sentiment. The fact that Richie had left this, knowing that Eddie would discover it after he’d gone. It made him feel better about having not had the chance to say goodbye. And somewhere in his subconscious, Eddie knew now that he would see Richie again.

* * *

After Richie’s first Wednesday back in Derry, the feelings of doubt that had landed in his lap so suddenly, slowly lifted as each day passed, and by Sunday, Richie was feeling pretty great. 

The house was up and running now, and had started to feel like his old home again - as opposed to a stranger’s house he was simply renting on a temporary basis. Although it was still virtually empty and his footsteps echoed through the vacant rooms and large stairway, Richie had brought his belongings into the house, and now old shelves were filled with books and records, and the wardrobe in his parent’s room filled with clothes.

It began to dawn on him that he had, in fact, been very right to follow his instincts and leave L.A. He’d hated being alone at first. He’d never been good at being his own company. Considered the ‘life of the party’, Richie rarely had nothing to say to somebody, and rarely wore a frown on his face. But when it came to being alone, Richie could hardly stand himself and felt so far from the person who had everybody laughing and feeling good. It was dull, it was boring. It was difficult to face his feelings. But, gradually, after accepting his decision to stay in Derry for a while, Richie eased up and tried hard to embrace his new environment.

Music helped. A lot. And on that first Wednesday, after his second visit to Derry Coffee and after dashing to the town’s grocery stores, Richie had set up his record player and spun his favourite albums. The music had blared through the large, hollow house and had deafened out the nagging doubt in Richie’s mind. It had been exactly what he needed. Since then, Richie had played his music every day while he cleaned up, read books, tried new food, explored his childhood bedroom. He’d been somewhat of a hermit since that early morning he’d spent in the coffee shop, briefly speaking with that pleasant boy, Eddie, who always had a concerned look on his face and a sarcastic comment at the ready, so Richie figured he’d take a walk. And since it was a Sunday, he figured the town would be pretty quiet.

He was right. Most of the family-run businesses in Derry’s town centre were shut for the day, and the bigger stores that _were_  open had early closing hours displayed on their doors and in their windows. Apart from a few groups of kids playing outside, Derry seemed still. With no clear direction in mind, Richie decided to stretch his legs and take a stroll toward downtown Derry. He followed a route that was so familiar to walk along and, before arriving there, Richie realised he was walking to Bassey Park. He’d spent plenty of his childhood there - flying kites with his dad as a child, stealing innocent kisses from girls in his pre-teen years. And he’d spent many boring Sundays walking through the park and throwing rocks into the canal that ran through it. And that’s where he was now, by the railing that fenced off the drop to the canal below. Richie looked into the muggy water, the winter sun hitting its surface and, for the first time since Charlie had told him she was leaving, he felt a wave of pure joy - near elation - and realised that things could be okay, after all. It hit him quicker than he’d thought, having only been in Derry for less than a week. Perhaps it was a momentary thing, a fleeting feeling that would disappear as soon as he retreated away from the canal, but he’d take what he could get.

* * *

Eddie always had Sundays off from work. 

And they always followed the same routine.

Sonia Kaspbrak was a member of Derry’s local book club that met every late Sunday morning at Derry Public Library. Eddie had initially been surprised by his mother’s involvement when she’d told him the news but, after being dragged along on several occasions, Eddie swiftly came to the realisation that the members of the book club couldn’t care less about reading… but they adored gossip.

The group consisted of a dozen or so of Derry’s local women, all in his mother’s age range, and all tended to be unmarried or widowed. Depending on the length of the book, they’d spend a few weeks reading independently, meeting up each Sunday to reflect on the parts they had read so far. This was how his mother had explained it to him, and how Eddie supposed most book clubs functioned. But upon his first sit-in, it became clear to him that this was not a book club at all. It was just an excuse to get together and talk. Or rather, get together to gossip, bitch and complain. It all made sense to him then, because Eddie had rarely seen his mother pick up a book but had seen her gossip plenty, poking her nose into other people’s business and simply needing to be “in the know”. This group of miserable middle-aged women, knowing everything about everyone and having an opinion (usually negative) on everything, was such a ridiculous cliché, Eddie should have seen it coming. On the one hand, he loathed it, especially when his mother urged him to go along with her. He couldn’t understand why she wanted him with her, but then, she always wanted him by her side. And on the other hand, Eddie felt that he should be glad that his mother was socialising - even if he personally considered the whole thing toxic. At least this gossip group that hid under the guise of a club got her out of the house and, sometimes, off his back. If there was one thing Sonia Kaspbrak loved as much as her son, it was tittle-tattle and rumours.

This Sunday, however, Eddie had not been forced along, but did have the task of picking up his prescription from the local pharmacy before it closed later that afternoon. He left his home with his mom by his side, and when they reached Kansas Street, they split up; Eddie heading to Center Street Drug and Sonia moseying across to the library.

“Come by when you’re finished there, Eddie!” His mom called over her shoulder, and Eddie, with his back turned, rolled his eyes.

“Sure thing, mom.” Just when he thought he’d gotten out of it…

Inside the drug store, Eddie searched his coat pocket for any loose change, deciding he’d treat himself to some chocolate or candy since he’d be suffering through his mother’s book club. He chose a bar of chocolate, then headed to the counter to find Mr Keene who would know what Eddie was there for without needing to ask.

Mr Keene gave Eddie the usual apathetic look and, out of habit, asked after his mother, to which Eddie gave the usual reply. “She’s fine. At her book club.” He paid for his chocolate bar, grabbed the paper-bag that contained his asthma medication, and made a hasty exit.

Walking along Kansas Street, Eddie was stunned to see Richie turn the corner and head straight toward him. Richie’s eyes were turned up to the sky as if he was watching something there and, for a moment, Eddie genuinely considered cutting down a side street to dodge him before being noticed. He wasn’t sure why, or what the big deal was. He supposed it was the fact that he had somewhere to be and his mother would be expecting him. The last thing he wanted was for his mother to see him talking to a stranger. Even if that stranger wasn’t entirely a stranger to her son any more, and treated him way better than anybody in the town did. Including her.

But it was too late anyway.

“ _Why!_ \- Is that Derry Coffee’s very own Eddie-boy I see, walking toward me?!”

Eddie could only attempt to hide his amusement at the drama in Richie’s voice as the distance between them shortened rapidly, and he was soon standing before the man.

Richie beamed. “Y’know, I was just starting to believe you’d been imprisoned in that place but, lo and behold, you’re a free man!”

Eddie laughed. “Sure - free. Just for the day though.”

“That’s too bad,” Richie offered sympathetically, fixing the glasses on the bridge of his nose. “What’s Eddie doing on this fine Sunday?”

“Not much. Had to run a few errands and…” He hesitated, wishing he’d lied, but finally continued. “And now I’m meeting my mom at the library.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. She’s part of a stupid book club there.” Eddie shrugged, trying to play it casual.

“They have a book club? Heh! That’s interesting. Never thought Derry would have a book club.” Richie never pegged Derry for the kind of town to promote any sort of ‘togetherness’, but hey, it had been a slightly different time when he’d grown up here. Things change.

“It’s only been running for a few months now.” Eddie smirked. “To be honest, they don’t get much reading done. It’s more of a gossip thing.”

Richie grinned, wide. “Oh, okay! Now _that_  makes a lot of sense. I was starting to doubt everything I knew about this place.”

That triggered something off in Eddie. He remembered the question he had been saving for Richie - the one he was going to ask before noticing Richie had left Derry Coffee without saying a word. He rubbed the back of his neck, looked up at Richie. “So, you’re pretty familiar with Derry?”

Richie nodded, answering his question with no hesitation, and that made Eddie feel more comfortable about asking. “Pretty familiar. I’m from here. Grew up here. Went to school here. Suffered here, etcetera.” At that last point, Richie laughed and Eddie joined in; a knowing laugh that told the older man he knew exactly what he was talking about. “I moved away for college and well, the rest is history.”

Eddie was astonished to discover that Richie had not only been born in Derry, but had spent his childhood and the majority of his teen years here too. He still carried something different about him, something different that stood out like flashing lights by a road diversion. Perhaps all the time he’d spent out of Derry had done that to him.

“Wow. I had no idea you were from here. I just assumed you were visiting for some reason.”

“Well, it’s true. But it’s also true that I’m just visiting.”

“Family?” Eddie couldn’t stop the question from leaving his lips. He was on a roll, wanted to know more, wanted all the information on Richie he could get.

“No. Not exactly. It’s a long story. Maybe I’ll tell you some day, when you have the time. I wouldn’t wanna keep you from your mom and her fellow book-lovers.” He winked and Eddie felt his knees nearly buckle.

He sighed and nodded his head. “You’re right, I should get going. My mom will be wondering where I am.”

Richie returned his nod but Eddie noticed him focusing on his hands. It took him a few seconds to realise what Richie was looking at, but as soon as he figured it out, he almost hid the pharmacy bag behind his back like a child hiding stolen candy. Instead, he stood firm, unmoving. That would surely make it less of a big deal, right?

But as it turned out, it wasn’t a big deal, because Richie didn’t say a word about it. Eddie, however, was paranoid for the rest of the day, believing that, somehow, Richie could know his whole medical history by staring at the paper bag in his hand. It was stupid, and during his calmer, more rational moments, he knew it. Richie had only briefly looked at the bag, like anybody would - it was right there, easy to notice. It had been a passing glance that meant nothing. The bag could be carrying anything. Medication, but maybe for his mom, not Eddie. Antiseptic cream. Painkillers for headaches. Or - asthma medication for Eddie after all, and was that a big deal? No. Would Richie consider it a big deal? Of course not. But as they said goodbye and Eddie continued his walk to the library, he felt ashamed. Somehow, he thought that Richie would know everything about him. How dependent he had become on his medication - and not just the medicine for his asthma. How weak he felt. How he felt he couldn’t function unless he took his pills at the exact same time, every single day. How he would, sometimes, set an alarm to remind him to consume his medicine. How his mother checked up on him and made sure he was keeping on top of it all. How fucked up he felt, when he really stopped to think about things.

* * *

Richie spent Sunday night with his feet up on the couch and his head in a book, feeling content for the first time in a while. That walk through Bassey Park had done the trick, had cleared some mental block from his brain and he felt as though he could think clearly now. 

Except it wasn’t Charlie he was thinking about.

Mr Derry Coffee boy, Eddie, was on his mind. There was nothing to think about specifically, but Richie was beginning to realise that after each of their interactions, he felt… better? There was a charm about the boy and his wide, nervous eyes. And Richie got the distinct feeling that the boy had some walls built around him that he was able to temporarily knock down each time he made him laugh. It felt like an accomplishment each time he earned a grin or a giggle from Eddie. Almost as though not many people had the honour of seeing that. He couldn’t quite place why he had this feeling about him. After all, he knew nothing about him - well, nothing beyond the fact that he made exceptionally good coffee and his mom was part of Derry’s local gossip club. But, that feeling was there and it wouldn’t budge, and Richie had always believed he was good at reading people. Eddie was also the only person he’d spent much time chatting to since being in Derry, so who else was there to think about?

As the night grew later and colder, Richie wrapped up and turned on the lamps in the house. The book he’d been reading now lay on the coffee table and, as he sat in thought, pen tapping against his notebook, soft music from his record player filled the living room and warmed the air. His notebook was filled with ideas that mostly surrounded his daily slot on the radio. Conversation topics, playlists, jokes. As he willed more ideas to find their way out of his pen and take form on the lined paper, he doodled on the blank page adjacent, finding himself drawing a bridge that curved over a river - like the canal he’d been watching earlier that day. His mind was elsewhere and Richie was gone, until the sound of his ringing phone brought him back.

He dug into his pocket and glanced at the screen. Charlie’s name stretched across the phone in writing that looked much bigger than Richie remembered, hurting his eyes. The sound of the phone felt like an assault on his ears, and the name made his heart drop and beat faster simultaneously.

Briefly, Richie argued with himself, trying to decide whether to accept the call or ignore it. His better judgement told him to ignore it. If it was important, she’d text, or leave a voicemail, or something. _Don’t you dare pick up,_ his smart voice told him. _You’ve had a good day. You’re here to heal, remember? Do you think this will help?_

As usual, Richie’s stupid voice won the battle and he gave in.

“Hi, Charlie. Is everything okay?”

The world seemed to slow down as he heard her voice again. It was so familiar, something he knew better than anything else, but it was now also strange, as though it was something that he shouldn’t be listening to.

“Hey, Richie. Everything’s fine. I’m just calling to see how you are.”

Richie’s common sense shrugged that comment off, but the illogical, love-sick side of him practically swooned over the idea of her wanting to know how he’s doing, and he smiled as he replied, “Oh, you know, I’m alright. Settling in. It’s weird being back here.”

“I bet! Have you been up to much?”

“Nothing exciting. I spent a while getting the house back in order, but I was out and about earlier today. That was nice.” He paused, then asked, “How are you doing, Charlie?”

“I’m great.” The tone of her voice seemed to prove this, and Richie’s emotions were conflicted. “Listen, I’ve put a deposit down on a place and I’m moving in next weekend.”

“That’s great news!” Richie supposed his voice was a little _too_  pleasant - he was trying too hard. “Good for you. Is it a nice place?”

“Not as nice as this one, but I fell in love with it as soon as I viewed it.”

“Sweet. That’s exciting.”

There was a pause on the phone and for a fleeting second, Richie realised why they were no longer together. The silence between them wasn’t comfortable or ordinary, it felt tight and strained, and Richie would love nothing more than to hang up and throw his cell out of the window.

“Richie?”

“Yes?” He couldn’t hide the sudden concern he felt.

“Look, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Okay…” Richie’s stomach somersaulted and his palms began to sweat. He had a feeling where this was going and was nearly prepared to hang up because he didn’t want to hear it right now. He didn’t think he could bear to listen to it right now.

“I’ve met someone.”

There you go. Immediately, Richie regretted not listening to his smart voice earlier. He should not have picked up. He didn’t need this information right now, or any time, for that matter. A fraction of him raged inside and he wanted to say __‘_ well, that was fucking quick, don’t you think?’ _Another part of him felt deflated, didn’t want to say a single word. But, as usual, he pulled himself together and pulled through.

“You have?” He asked calmly, though there was a storm building inside him.

“Yes…” Charlie sounded uncomfortable. Not necessarily apologetic, but certainly uncomfortable. “I just thought you should know. I’m sorry I had to tell you this way, but I figured the sooner you knew, the better.”

“It’s okay.” He lied. “That’s great, Charlie. Are you happy?” The question slipped out and he sounded convincing, but his mind was full of other things, things he wanted to say but would never say. _When did you meet him, Charlie? Pretty quick, huh? Had you already met before you broke up with me? I bet you fucked him behind my back, didn’t you? How long were you doing that? Is he the only one?_

“I’m very happy, Richie.” She replied softly, then added, “We’re taking things slow, but I really like him.”

“When did you two meet?” He couldn’t help himself, and he hoped his voice sounded curious rather than accusing.

She hesitated. “We met last fall some time. Through work.”

_You met him while we were still together. You knew this guy while we were living together and sleeping together and you probably liked him all along. Are you really only just dating, or has something been going on behind my back?_

“Oh.” Richie offered pathetically, not having anything particularly nice to say, so choosing not to say anything at all.

“Richie…” Charlie spoke slowly. “I know what you’re thinking but it’s not true.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Nothing happened. We were just friends and then, after we split, I got closer to him. That’s all. Nothing happened.”

“Okay, Charlie.” Richie was doubtful, but didn’t feel like arguing. “Okay.”

The call soon came to an end without Richie pushing the subject much further. He didn’t want to know this guy’s name or what he was like. He didn’t want to know how seriously they were dating or whether she was moving into her new apartment alone or with him. He didn’t want to dwell on the fact that her new boyfriend had probably been in _his_ apartment while he moped about in Derry. Sleeping with the woman he loved in the bed they had shared for years.

But he did dwell on it. He dropped his cell onto the coffee table, pushed his notebook off the sofa and sank into the furniture. Richie took off his glasses and hid his face in his hands.

The day had started off so well; Richie had even experienced a moment of pure euphoria as he stood by the canal in Bassey and watched the winter sky alternate between blues and greys… and it ended with him curled up on the sofa, wondering where he’d gone wrong and why the woman he loved was so content to move on so soon. He cried until he fell into an unsettled sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to everyone who read the first chapter & encouraged me to continue writing! Hope you enjoyed this one.


	3. Breathe

Eddie circled the rim of his mug with a finger as he stared out of the rain-streaked windows of Derry Coffee, wishing he was spending this bleak Sunday morning at home, tucked up in bed and dreaming of better things. He’d had zero customers in total, and nearly two hours had passed since he’d opened the shop at 9am. Eddie was working alone until 1pm, when he would be free again and another employee of Derry’s would take over. Exactly a week ago, around this time, Eddie had said goodbye to Richie and, clutching his pharmacy bag tightly and begrudgingly, had joined his mother and the rest of her babbling coven in the reception room of Derry’s library. Of course, he was stuck at Derry Coffee this morning purely to get out of spending any more time with his mother and the sneering women she fit right in with and although he longed for his warm bed, Eddie stood by his decision. The alternative was far, far worse.

From his seat, Eddie could see the road outside and marvelled at the fact that the streets were empty. Sure, he was bored out of his mind, but with customers, he’d be bored _and_ run off his feet. He was happy enough here, sat at the table that Richie had chosen to drink at the last time he visited, doing absolutely nothing. And where was Richie?

He hadn’t seen him since their unexpected meeting and his brain played paranoid thoughts on-loop - thoughts of Richie avoiding him because he knew how weak he really was. Stupid, silly, unreasonable. Eddie knew his mind was tricking him, but he couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts and as each Richie-less day passed, the more he started to believe them.

As he finished his drink, Eddie asked himself why he cared so much. Who was Richie to him, anyway? What did it matter if he never saw him again? He didn’t know why it mattered but it just did. The very idea made his stomach tighten unpleasantly. Was it reasonable to say that Eddie… liked Richie? As in… really _liked_ him? Maybe. He couldn’t deny that he was physically drawn in by Richie, and that he appreciated the efforts the man went to just to make him smile. But he didn’t _know_ the guy. He didn’t know his surname, he didn’t know how old he was, where he lived, why he was here. He was surely fooling himself into believing there was a connection there. He’d done it before. He’d had a couple of sacred crushes on school friends who always ended up abandoning him once they caught on, or who avoided him once they met his mother or realised they’d become one of Bowers’ targets just like Eddie if they stuck around. And each time, Eddie had convinced himself there was something there. That he wasn’t alone in how he was feeling. Each time, he had been wrong.

1pm finally ticked over and he huddled inside his winter coat, preparing himself for the January weather beyond the doors of Derry’s. Despite the biting cold, Eddie played it smart and followed the long route home, avoiding Witcham Street and the Aladdin Theatre, knowing full well that Henry and his fellow thugs would be plaguing that area - as they tended to do on a Sunday, with nothing better to do and nowhere else to go. Even in this weather. And who could blame them? The only human worse than Henry Bowers in Eddie’s mind was Henry’s father. If he was Henry, he’d spend the winter outside too.

The streets of Derry were mostly empty, apart from the cars that sent streams of dirty water flying behind them, and Eddie steered clear of the road, determined to stay as dry as possible. As he headed for home, his thoughts dwelled on his plans for the rest of the afternoon. His mother would arrive home between 3pm and 4pm - having finished up her late morning meeting at the library and following this with a visit to the grocery store before its early closing hour - and this left Eddie with anywhere between two to three hours alone. In the world of Eddie, two or three hours all to himself was more than a simple luxury - it was a complete and utter rarity that he relished like nothing else. And yet, he didn’t do anything particularly remarkable during the time he had alone, nor did he strive to do anything remarkable. It was the simple things, like watching television by himself and actually _choosing_ what he wanted to watch, without his mother fussing over every cuss word or telling Eddie that _this stuff will rot your brain_. And she must have believed it really would rot his brain, too - rushing to the TV in horror all those times Eddie was a kid, snapping the picture off without debate. The simple things, like curling up on the sofa and having some actual peace. Having the chance to sit, and write, without his mother hovering around him, curious as to what he could possibly be jotting down so privately. _“Are you keeping secrets from me, Eddie-bear?”_ She’d asked, a long time ago. _“I thought we told each other everything.”_ His mother had been close to tears at the mere thought of her Eddie keeping a diary, or a journal, or anything remotely private. This had been during his school years, and since then, he’d been more careful, choosing to only write when he was up in his room, his mother presuming him asleep. But Eddie had never kept a journal in his life. He loved to write, sure. But that stuff was make-believe stuff. Stories he’d sewn together from the depths of his imagination. He could be naive, but not naive enough to write anything personal down in a house he shared with Sonia Kaspbrak. He did have secrets, but so long as he kept his mouth shut and his bedroom journal-free, they would remain secret.

If Eddie had been paying attention, he would have heard the sets of footsteps from behind, closing in on him. His mind was elsewhere, another dimension, until a familiar voice emitted a yell that startled him.

“Kaspbrak!”

Without much thought, even though Eddie knew who he’d be faced with, he turned to identify the owner of the voice. Henry Bowers. No. Even worse. Henry and his gang. It all happened very quickly, but in that moment, time seemed to slow right down to a stop. Eddie stared at them, horror settling in the pit of his stomach, and they stared right back, snarling. Henry at the front. Belch and Victor side-by-side. And leering at the back of the group was Patrick Hockstetter, lips curled into a sneer that Eddie found bestial, making him look like an animal. Maybe a jackal. And it was that very grimace that prompted Eddie to run. The Henry Bowers that Eddie had bumped into nearly two weeks ago had been alone and seemingly desperate to escape the downpour of rain, and Eddie had only left with a scratched face and muddy knees. The one who crept up behind him today wasn’t alone, and the very look on Hockstetter’s face promised some serious damage to Eddie and some serious fun for them.

Eddie didn’t think, he just ran. He was small and lithe, and although this had posed many disadvantages so far in his short life, it also meant he could run. Fast. He tried hard to push away unwanted memories of asthma attacks on the school running-track, and as the rain-swollen clouds threatened a fresh outburst, Eddie ran, feet pounding the slick side-walk.

_Your chest will tighten first, Eddie._

He darted on, heart in his throat.

_Then comes the coughing fits and the wheezing._

Straight ahead, the path was empty. He wished to see somebody. Anybody. But the path remained stubbornly and unmercifully empty.

_You won’t be able to breathe if you keep running._

Eddie stuck a fist into his coat pocket and grasped his trusty aspirator. Somehow, just knowing it was there made him feel the slightest bit better, and he contradicted his latest intrusive thought with - _but what will they do to me if I don’t keep running?_ This possibility scared him more than the former, and so he pushed, and pushed, his head throbbing and the sound in his ears reduced to a high-pitched ‘beep’.

When Eddie neared Kansas Street, he dared to throw a glance over his shoulder, completely out of the loop at this point, and partly unsure if Henry and his gang were still behind him. Unfortunately, they were. Belch was dragging behind the rest of them, blue in the face, and looked ready for passing out. One down, three to go. Henry and Victor were more or less on par, but they were still lagging behind. Patrick, however, was closing in on him, that grin still evident on his face. Patrick the predator, Eddie the small animal. Hockstetter, in Eddie’s opinion, was just as bad as Henry, if not worse. There was something about him that Eddie couldn’t quite place. Something sinister. He’d never forget the rumours in school; Patrick Hockstetter, the boy who killed flies and collected them in his pencil case. Those rumours were proven to be true when Eddie witnessed Patrick showing some other kids his gruesome collection in the playground. He knew there and then that he’d rather Henry catch up to him.

_Eddie-bear, think about your poor lungs!_ His mom’s voice echoed in his head, warning him. He thought, _never mind my lungs, mama, Patrick will cut me up and collect the pieces in his pencil case if he gets the chance._ And with that, Eddie, clinging onto his fear and his hope simultaneously, found it within himself to pick up his speed and put some distance between himself and Patrick. He also thought it wise to take an abrupt turn into a side-street and, peeking over his shoulder once again, caught sight of Patrick stumbling over his own feet as he attempted to swerve around the corner. Good. That would give him time.

And it did. When he made it to his block, Patrick was no longer in sight. Eddie wondered whether he’d accidentally fallen behind, or whether he’d just given up. After seeing the look in Patrick’s eyes, Eddie doubted the latter.

He was happy to see familiar faces on his street, but continued to rush past them anyway, running until he reached his house. Once he was inside, he locked the door behind him for good measure, threw his backpack to the floor, then fell down beside it. He slumped up against the wall in the hallway, sweat dripping down his face, cold and stinging. There was a long moment of silence, then Eddie began to sob. Silently to begin with, and then loud, chest-heaving cries. He cried until his eyes grew dry and the tears stopped shedding. It had been a long time since Eddie had cried like that - and he felt much better afterwards. He pulled himself up, legs weak and aching, and shuffled into the living room, lying his sore body down onto the couch and closing his eyes.

Later that evening, remembering his crying session, Eddie realised that those tears were not only tears of fear and exhaustion during the come-down of his adrenaline, but also tears of triumph. He had escaped Bowers and his friends, unharmed. He outrun them, made it home. He was safe. And he did it all by himself. He had run like lightning; faster than he’d ever moved in his life, and his lungs had not collapsed. His body didn’t give up on him and crumble in on itself - it had protected him. For the first time in his whole life, Eddie Kaspbrak felt strong. Eddie Kaspbrak felt alive.

* * *

 

Richie, meanwhile, had been doing his own running.

The night of the phone call had been a very long one indeed. Richie had barely slept that night; he’d wake up abruptly, as if exiting a nightmare, and then doze through half-formed thoughts of Charlie and her new boyfriend, of his life back in L.A. and the changes he knew he had to make. He was relieved when the morning sun trickled into the living room, weak but reassuring, and the first thing Richie did was call his mom.

Maggie Tozier, always in tune with her son, knew that something was wrong as soon as she heard Richie’s voice. Unlike past occasions, Richie didn’t bother trying to hide it. He wanted to hear his mother’s voice and he wanted her to tell him that things would be okay. Richie rarely felt vulnerable, and when he did, he fought hard not to show it. But that morning, he felt as small and defenceless as an ant in danger of being crushed, and he had to turn to somebody.

The call helped and, following his mother’s advice, Richie packed a few things and drove away from Derry for the time being. Maggie was right; Richie had gone away to do something different and to see different things. She’d asked, _what good is it to coop yourself up in that house? You may as well come home._ So Richie decided to travel through Maine for a few days. Or a week. Or two. He hadn’t decided yet. He had his wallet, filled with cash and a bunch of cards, and several changes of clothes. That’s all he needed. The rest, he believed, would fall right into place.

As it turned out, Richie spent a week ‘sightseeing’ in Maine. He returned to Derry the very night Eddie had tossed and turned in bed, chest still sore from sprinting away from the Bowers gang earlier that afternoon.

During his week away, Richie made two revelations: drinking was a fucking good way to forget your feelings, and boy, was Maine cold in the winter?!

His first day away from Derry had been taken up by driving. Richie had no destination in mind and simply drove, and drove, until he tired himself out and checked into the nearest hotel. Lonely in his room, Richie decided to wander down to the bar on the first floor and sat alone, drinking until a warmth sat in his stomach, pleasant and heavy. He’d never been much of a drinker. Sure, he’d partied during his college years and, in some instances, had drank so much he still had no recollection of how he’d woken in his own bed, safe and sound. But since moving out to L.A. and pursuing his career, Richie couldn’t care for alcohol. Until now. The hotel were serving up all kinds of cocktails; weird and wonderful names and colours, every mix you could think of. His wallet was full and he had nowhere to go, so who was he to turn his nose up at them?

He woke up the following day, early afternoon, with a pounding headache that wouldn’t seem to ease, no matter how hard he tried to cure it. Richie spent that second day lying in his hotel bed, making the most of room service. On the third day, Richie continued his journey and checked out of the hotel, feeling fresh behind the wheel of his car. Music on and playing loud, Richie sped across the vast winding roads ahead, and he knew where he was going.

When he was a boy, maybe nine or ten, his mother and father had taken him to Maine’s Acadia National Park. It had been late summer, nearing fall, and school was still out. Richie had been excited when his dad, Went Tozier, had taken a couple of days off work so he could spend time with his family. His excitement tripled one morning when his parents woke him up extra early, surprising him with a spontaneous day out. Richie’s mind swirled with the most incredible ideas like fast rides at an amusement park, eating so much junk food he could barely keep it all in as the roller-coaster flipped him upside down… So, when the car started up and pulled away from their home, and his parents told them they were spending the day at some _national park_ , Richie spent the beginning of the journey staring out of his window, glum and regrettable.

It didn’t take long for Maggie and Went to pick up on their son’s misery. After all, he was in the back-seat, silent as a mouse, and when did that ever happen? After some prompting, Richie admitted his disappointment. _Why are we going all this way for some_ park? _There’s a park right round the corner!_

“Not like this one.” His father pointed out.

“Why not?” He had asked, still pouting and wishing they’d turn the car around.

“This park is bigger.”

“How much bigger?” Child-Richie questioned, his eyebrows raised with some doubt and a look that read, _my folks must be loopy._

“Well, this one has a restaurant.” His mother chipped in.

“The one near our house has picnic benches…” Richie had offered lamely, still hoping they’d turn the car around because who wants to drive a couple of hours to see a park?

“And there are beaches. You can even see the ocean, Richie.”

“The ocean is in the park?!” His young brain couldn’t comprehend the idea, had believed that his parents must be tricking him.

“It’s not like the usual parks you see, Richie.” Went cut in. “It’s not a park with swings like the one by our house. It’s huge, and full of hiking trails and wildlife.”

Richie was starting to feel more interested, leaning forward in his seat so his head poked between his parents at the front of the car.

“And,” his father continued, “we haven’t even told you the best part.”

The best part turned out to be Acadia National Park’s ‘Thunder Hole’. Naturally, the name captured Richie’s imagination as soon as his father said the words, and his first thought was of a deep hole in the ground, where thunder rumbled and lightning cracked, and how neat was _that?!_ Richie was sold.

Acadia’s ‘Thunder Hole’ was an inlet which had formed naturally within the rocks that decorated the sea’s shore. As Went would go on to explain to a very young and very intrigued Richie, the waves rushed into this inlet, rolling into the small cavern that hid there, causing air and water to be forced out in a swift and loud clap that was akin to the sound of thunder in the distance. Richie could remember, even to this day, his father saying that the water could rush out from the inlet and reach a wave of 40 feet high on a very good day. Back then, Richie had no particular concept of height, but his father seemed impressed by this and so Richie gasped in awe and told his dad he hoped the water would hit 40 feet when they got there.

Richie’s excitement bubbled over as they finally made it to the Thunder Hole. There was a path, acting as a sort of platform, that ran right by the side of the inlet, and Richie and his dad got as close as they could - Maggie deciding to watch from a distance - and waited, their eyes following a billowing wave that rushed towards them and the inlet. Richie wasn’t disappointed. The cavern pushed the water out in a gigantic shower that drenched Richie and Went, much to Richie’s delight, and simultaneously set off a majestic roar that did indeed sound like thunder.

This is where Richie headed on his third day of exploring Maine and his third day of running from Charlie’s phone call. He spent the day in Acadia, this time appreciating its beauty and charm; every mountain, every mile of trees that stretched beside the trail he drove along. The heating in his car was turned right up. When he’d spent the day here with his parents, it had been summer and a pleasantly hot day. This time, however, was mid January and freezing, frost sprinkled the tree-tops and the sea rolled with a choppy ferocity. But this didn’t stop him from pulling up and taking a trip to the Thunder Hole. The angry waves that rushed into the inlet were spewed out again at a fantastic height, and Richie chose to keep his distance, just like his mother had, figuring he was cold enough without the icy water soaking his bones. But, fuck, it was beautiful. He felt a rush inside him, similar to the feeling he’d experienced that quiet Sunday in Derry, as he stood by the canal and realised that there was more to life than his Charlie-problems and his lack-of-motivation problems. Everything else was rendered insignificant and trivial, and all that mattered to Richie in this moment was the boom of thunder caused by the torrent, and the cold flecks of ocean spray that fell in his face and spotted his glasses.

On Richie’s fourth night in Maine, he checked into another hotel and bought drinks in the bar. He sat alone for a while until a woman approached him; her eyes bright and her red lipstick even brighter. Naturally, Richie welcomed her presence and they spoke and drank for a while. Richie didn’t think it would go anywhere - wasn’t convinced that he’d let it go anywhere, even if he had the chance - but the company was much-needed. And, he’d admit to himself later, it was a delight to get into the role of Richie Tozier; the charmer, the comedian, the flirt. He was happy to buy this stranger drinks and happy to walk her back to her room. She left him with a kiss that stained his lips pink and he sloped back to his bedroom, feeling a little more like Richie. When he woke up in the morning, he could barely recall the details of her face, let alone her name. But he didn’t feel regrettable; after all, nothing had happened. In fact, Richie felt good, and there was a slight spring in his step as he left the hotel and set off in his car.

The rest of his time away from Derry was uneventful, but when he made it back to the town, he felt lighter, and coming back into his childhood home, a pang of excitement buzzed through him. It was late, around midnight, but he sat up at the kitchen table, writing in his notebook, head full of new ideas. Unbeknownst to Richie, Eddie Kaspbrak was still awake too, and although the forefront of his mind was distracted with thoughts of Henry’s gang chasing him earlier that day, Patrick dangerously close and almost catching up to him, Eddie spared a few moments to linger on more pleasant thoughts, like the way Richie had approached him without a single moment of hesitation when he’d spotted him on Kansas Street.

* * *

 

As soon as Friday rolled by, February 1st, Eddie found himself baking and decorating heart-shaped cookies to fill the dessert counter of Derry Coffee. It wasn’t his idea, of course - it was merely an obligation that he took no pleasure from. Eddie couldn’t fathom why such a fuss had to be made, but he supposed that, even despite the pink and red streamers and hearts that adorned the walls, this was tame for his employer who liked to turn the whole store into a grotto around Christmas time. Still, he’d spent many February 14th’s in Derry’s, and he knew what was expected of him. He expertly rolled the cookie dough, used the heart-shaped cutters, watched them turn a golden-brown, before decorating them. He didn’t mind that part too much. Simply because it gave him the chance to do something creative and fun; an opportunity that didn’t come round much as a worker in Derry’s local coffee shop.

It was a typical Friday; customers flitted in and out, most tables were filled and needed clearing every couple of minutes. Eddie remained by the cash register, dancing between order-taking and cookie-baking. Just a typical Friday, except Eddie was paranoid. Since the incident on Sunday, Eddie had experienced a few near-misses with Henry and his friends, but he’d managed to go unnoticed each time. Which was exactly why he was paranoid today. For some reason, he believed they were waiting for _him_ , specifically. Nobody else would do. Perhaps he was wrong, but his paranoia was all too convincing, and each time the door opened, his head snapped up to see who had entered.

By the time the sky had turned a winter navy blue, and the busy crowd of customers had dwindled down to a handful, Eddie felt much calmer and had busied himself with the baking and decorating, his paranoid thoughts no longer lurking like a devil on his shoulder. The glass counter by the till was now filled with all kinds of Valentine’s-themed treats; Eddie’s heart-shaped cookies, fluffy cupcakes topped with pink icing, glazed doughnuts with edible chocolate hearts sprinkled on top. The desserts had been a hit with the customers who had visited Derry’s that afternoon and evening, with Eddie having to top up the counter every now and again with fresh goods. He was beaming for the moment, but the thought of repeating this and keeping it up until Valentine’s Day was enough to make Eddie hate anything pink and pretty.

He was serving up a bunch of heart-shaped cookies, piling them into a plastic box for a customer who wanted to take them home, when the door opened and, suddenly remembering his fear of Bowers, Eddie glanced up. His heart skipped a beat, then began to thud quickly. Richie was walking into the store, eyes down and focused on his phone screen. Picking up his pace, Eddie sealed the plastic tub and handed them over to the customer with a polite ‘goodbye’, then got busy pretending he hadn’t noticed Richie at all. His palms were sweaty and his knees suddenly felt like jell-o, and he thought it so ironic that he was huffing and puffing about all this lovey-dovey drivel, when here he was; butterflies in his stomach and heart racing. It was a cliché, and he knew it. He started to dry some dishes, putting them back in their places as he anticipated Richie’s arrival at the cash register.

“Wow, is all this for me? You shouldn’t have!” Eddie turned and saw that Richie was spinning on his heel, taking in the decorations and then stopping to focus on the Valentine’s desserts.

He stepped up to the cash register and offered Richie a smile. “I guess we knew you were coming in today.” Eddie surprised himself with how smoothly the sentence fell from his lips, and it took a lot to stop himself from reddening.

Richie laughed, then came closer and leaned on the table by the register. “How are you today, Eds?”

“Eds?” Eddie raised his eyebrows.

“What? Not a good nickname?” Richie questioned, fixing his glasses. “Maybe it’s not the most imaginative, but _I_ like it.”

Eddie didn’t really know what to make of the name. There was something about it that he wasn’t entirely keen on; but the delight of Richie giving him a nickname outweighed his uncertainty and it certainly beat the nicknames his bullies had given him. “I’ll tolerate it,” he commented with a playful smirk that made Richie grin.

“Good. Now, back to my question. Eds, how are you?”

“I’m okay,” he replied casually, despite the fireworks exploding in his chest. “As you can see, we’re preparing for the 14th. Two weeks early.”

“Mhmm,” Richie nodded, taking another 360-degree scan of the shop. “You look happy about that.”

Eddie returned Richie’s sarcasm with a sarcastic smile and then, without thinking too much about it, said, “I haven’t seen you in a little while.” To make this more casual, he added, “have you been up to much?”

“Yeah,” Richie was still leaning against the counter. “It _has_ been a little while. I got out of Derry for a bit, did a lot of driving around Maine.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” Eddie was just relieved that Richie was still here and hadn’t returned to… well, wherever Richie had come from before magically appearing in Derry for a ‘visit’. He was still wondering what Richie’s story was - the one that had been too long for him to describe that Sunday morning on Kansas Street.

“Very cool. Literally. Freezing, in fact.” Richie joked with a raise of his eyebrows. “I was driving in snow a lot. I’m surprised it’s not snowing here.”

“We had a lot of snow around Christmas. Since then, it’s been mostly rain.”

“I’d take snow over rain any day.”

“Not me,” Eddie shook his head. “I prefer rain.”

Richie practically baulked at Eddie’s statement. “What? You don’t like snowball fights, or making snowmen?”

“I don’t like slipping on ice and breaking something.” Eddie corrected him. “Rain is… cosy.”

“Snow can be cosy too,” Richie pointed out, wagging a finger. “Especially around Christmastime. Don’t you think?”

“I guess so. I like snow when I’m inside wrapped up. As for going out in it? Not so much.”

Richie shook his head in a dramatic and elaborate display of astonishment, that was clearly done to make Eddie laugh. And it worked. “Eds, how old are you? Because it sounds like you’re owed your pension any time soon.”

Eddie laughed again. “I’m nineteen, but does it matter how old I am? I think not wanting to fall and break your arm is pretty fair enough.”

“Perhaps.” Richie smiled. “I just thought you young folk weren’t even supposed to fear consequences.”

“I get the feeling you still don’t?”

It was Richie’s turn to laugh. “Wow, Eds. Nice riposte. But actually, you’re right. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

Eddie smiled. “Maybe both.”

The door opened and a small group of friends gathered inside Derry’s, queueing up behind Richie. Eddie groaned internally, knowing he’d have to cut his conversation with Richie short.

“What can I get for you, Richie?”

“I’ll have a coffee, please. Bet you didn’t see that one coming.” He smiled, took a second and added, “Oh, and, might as well get into the holiday spirit. I’ll take one of those cookies.” He pointed to the selection of heart-shaped cookies displayed in the counter.

“One coffee and one prematurely early Valentine’s cookie coming up.”

* * *

 

Between serving customers and pouring hot drinks, Eddie eyed Richie, who sat alone in the far corner of Derry’s, sipping his coffee and gazing out of the window. Eddie wondered, not for the first time, what he was thinking about and why he was here in Derry. If he just had some idea, then maybe he’d know how long to expect Richie to be around. The wise voice in Eddie’s head told him not to get attached; it would be ridiculous because he didn’t even know this guy, and it would be dangerous because he didn’t live here in Derry. But Eddie couldn’t help but notice Richie’s defined jawline and how messy hair suited him. He couldn’t help the fact that he felt so comfortable talking to this man he barely knew - that he could speak so freely without fear of judgement or hostility. He couldn’t help but feel as though he’d stumbled upon the one good person in Derry.

A little while later, as the shop grew quiet, that one good person in Derry finished his coffee and wandered over to Eddie with his tray in his hands.

“Thanks again, Eds.” He handed the tray over to a grateful Eddie, then pulled a note out of his pocket. “A tip, good sir. Simply because that cookie almost made me forget how terrible Valentine’s Day is.”

Eddie laughed, and although he still felt uneasy taking the money from Richie, he did anyway. “Thanks, Richie. You really don’t have-”

“Let me stop you there.” Richie raised a hand. “I may not believe in Valentine’s Day but I strongly believe in tipping.” He smiled. “I’m off now, so you have a good day.”

“Thanks. You too.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

Eddie watched Richie turn and head to the door and, feeling caught out for still looking, had a brief moment of blind panic when Richie turned back one last time himself. But he only smiled pleasantly, and gave Eddie a goodbye wave before stepping outside.

He clocked out of work an hour later, feeling the best he’d felt since the afternoon Patrick had nearly chased him all the way home. Eddie hoped that Richie really meant his “see you soon”, especially after his recent absence which seemed to have dragged and gone on forever. Eddie had almost been convinced he wouldn’t see him again, but now, it seemed, he had something to make his days bright again.

Eddie walked home, that paranoia looming in his brain again. He figured that was okay though. Here, out in the open, his paranoia would make him be careful and being careful would keep him safe. He walked slowly, constantly taking in his surroundings and being extra cautious when turning corners onto new streets.

When he reached his block, a long stretch of houses lit by street lights, he heard laughter; loud and menacing, and he knew that all along, he’d had the right to be paranoid. Further up the street, Henry and his gang loitered by Eddie’s house, their presence made clear by the glowing ends of lit cigarettes. With no second of hesitation, Eddie turned around and slunk away, back where he’d come from, hiding in the shadows. He had no idea where to go, but he had no intention of going home and becoming Henry’s punch-bag and Hockstetter’s pencil case show-and-tell. As Eddie walked, he supposed that they were so hung up over not catching him last time, that they now had a personal vendetta against him. They had to finish what they started. That being said, they’d always had a vendetta against him, but they’d never waited for him outside of his home. It had been worse back in school, of course. Picked on because he was small and had no friends. But after graduating school and never leaving Derry, the bullying had continued - Eddie was just thankful that he no longer had to go to school with them, and be around them nearly every day.

He walked on for a while before finding shelter from the cold in Derry’s library. It was much more pleasant walking the shelves of books and knowing that he wasn’t there for his mother’s book club. That triggered a thought, and Eddie pulled his phone out of his pocket, messaging his mom. _‘Hi Mom, I’ve been asked to stay a while longer at work. Will let you know when I’m nearly home. x’_

Under the watchful eye of the librarian, suspicious and prying, Eddie grabbed a random book from the shelves in front of him, then retreated to an empty corner of the library. He sat cross-legged on the floor, his coat pooling around him, and he turned to any page, pretending to be interested. Although he stared at the words that marked the yellowing pages, he didn’t read them, make any sense of them. His head was swimming with worry. When would Henry leave? Would they still be there when he dared to try again later? What if he walked home but met them somewhere else along the way? What if they’d show up to his house _every day_ until they finally had the chance to beat him senseless? Most importantly, why? Why now? They’d been on his case since he’d first met them, sure, but why were they suddenly so determined to find him?

Eddie grew tired under the artificial lights of the library, and gazed sadly out of the large windows from where he sat. The sky was now black and ashy, and he didn’t even want to check the time. Vaguely, a thought crossed his mind: _why does something bad always happen when I’ve had a good day?_

* * *

 

February 7th, a week away from Valentine’s Day, and Eddie was well and truly over baking the sweet treats for the holiday. At this point, it wasn’t necessarily the holiday itself that Eddie resented, it was simply the upkeep of the store and its desserts. With the weather growing more and more calm, the people of Derry were braving the outside world and, with that, came more customers. Eddie found himself baking a new batch of cookies and cakes almost as soon as he’d finished decorating and displaying the previous batch. He was run off his feet, especially with one co-worker at home with the flu, and the other making the most of their holiday hours. He had been in work nearly every day for the past week and, although he wouldn’t usually mind, it was starting to take its toll on his tired feet and his erratic sleeping-pattern. It didn’t help that most of his free time was taken up by all-consuming thoughts of Henry Bowers and where they would meet next. Just like the day Patrick was gaining in on him, Eddie felt like an animal, using his basic survival instincts and always on high-alert.

The only positive thing was Eddie’s interaction with Richie, which had become more frequent since he’d shown up in Derry’s at the start of the month. That day, Richie had left with a ‘see you soon’, and he’d meant it. The very next day, early in the morning, Richie had spent a full hour in the coffee shop, ordering his usual drink and breaking his tradition by finally buying warm food. Eddie made his breakfast and, before Richie left, he hung around by the front counter, talking to Eddie about a film he’d recently watched at the Aladdin. Just a couple of days later, Richie had arrived again and although the shop was much busier and they barely had time to talk, they fell into a pattern of throwing glances to one another and Richie would smile - widely - each time, causing a stir in Eddie’s stomach that made him feel unfamiliarly giddy. In Richie’s presence, Eddie would forget himself and the worries that plagued his weary mind. Eddie was grateful for these temporary interferences; they gave him a short time to step out of himself and remember what it was like to feel good and unburdened. When Richie wasn’t around, he was left to think about Bowers and his mother who had been throwing tantrums over Eddie’s long work hours, simply because he wasn’t around to do everything for her at home. He was left to think about what he’d be doing right now, if he’d just gone ahead with completing and submitting those college applications. If he had only took a stand and said, _no, mom. I can’t stay with you forever. This is my life. Not yours._ He regretted it every day, but with this Henry thing a constant black cloud at the forefront of his brain, he was thinking about it even more. Hating himself even more for making such bad decisions. For having such a lack of control over his own life. How had this happened? He supposed it had been this way since the day he was born. Did he really ever have a chance?

So late in the afternoon, a week away from Valentine’s Day, when Richie paid Derry’s a visit, Eddie didn’t even see him come in. It was only when he headed back to the front counter after dropping off a customer’s order that he noticed Richie in the ever-growing queue. A co-worker was stationed at the cash register today, and Eddie’s duties consisted of baking and refilling the desserts, and taking orders to their assigned tables. As he approached the front of the shop, he heard Richie placing his order, and he felt a pang of disappointment over the fact that he was not the one serving him. Eddie noted Richie’s quick and polite exchange with his co-worker, and he felt something akin to relief, realising that Richie’s funny comments and friendly familiarity seemed to be reserved just for him. Eddie reached his place behind the counter, where a tray of tea and coffee sat waiting to be taken out on the shop floor, and Richie noticed him immediately. Richie gave him a wordless ‘hello’ with an enthusiastic wave of his hand which Eddie returned, before resuming his duties.

It wasn’t long before he was sent to Richie’s table with a tray of black coffee and another heart-shaped cookie; the same raspberry and white chocolate one he’d served him at the start of the month.

“Eds! Good to see ya!” Richie sat up straight, taking his elbows off the small two-seater table so that Eddie could place his drink down.

“Afternoon, Richie.” Eddie smiled down at him as he dropped off the tray. He wished he could stay longer and although he knew he had to rush away, he still asked, “how are you?”

“I’m great, kid.” Richie eyed the order in front of him. “Especially now. You should keep an eye on me, I may just end up eating every single cookie in this place.”

Eddie laughed. “Please do. I never wanna see those things again.”

Richie grinned and took a sip of his coffee. “How are you doing?”

“Not bad. Just the usual.”

“Very ambiguous. What’s ‘the usual’ then, Eds?”

“I’m okay. I guess I’m-”

An impatient voice cut in. “Eddie! We have drinks for the back table that need taking over.” His co-worker had called him from behind the cash register and he quickly threw an ‘okay, coming!’ back in that direction.

“Sorry.” He turned to Richie. “It’s really busy today.”

“I get it. Go, Eds. Go and serve the people of America.” Richie drew a hand over his chest and Eddie was almost sure he was about to sing the national anthem - and was thankful when his assumption had been wrong. Reluctantly, he left Richie to drink his coffee and went about serving orders.

* * *

 

Richie sipped his coffee and he felt good. Since returning to Derry from his tour around Maine, he’d felt a surge of energy and newly found motivation to bury himself into his work. Not that he could do very much, being several thousands of miles away from his studio in Los Angeles. But he’d called his manager a couple of times to check in, and was relieved to hear that everything in L.A. was A-OK, with his co-workers and audience eager to have him home. During his more morose and self-doubting moods back in Derry’s bleak January, he’d had this overwhelming idea that he wouldn’t be missed and could be easily replaced. It was good to know his place was waiting for him, safe and sound. He had new ideas, just small things, to vamp up up his show a little and keep it interesting. His manager seemed to be all for Richie’s suggestions, and as he sat in Derry Coffee, surrounded by chatting customers, he was content.

He found himself drawn to this little spot more and more. Derry Coffee may be crumbling on the outside, but inside, it tended to be a hive of activity, apart from during early mornings and late evenings. The coffee was good - though he only ever had standard coffee, anyway. Never one for the fancy things like cappuccinos and mochas and ice coffees drizzled in fancy syrups. The desserts were exceptional, and he’d finally ordered a breakfast just a few days ago, which put his own decent cooking to shame. And, perhaps most importantly, Derry Coffee’s staff were friendly and attentive. Well, one employee in particular, who could handle Richie and his lame jokes extremely well - almost _expertly_ well.

Eddie. Nineteen years old. He had no knowledge of his surname yet, but he knew a fair amount about him already. He worked a lot, and he worked hard. But he didn’t like his job. He was clearly very intelligent and his wit was so sharp it almost had Richie speechless at times. Almost. His mother attended a book club that consisted of gossiping neighbours - and Eddie loathed this. He preferred rain over snow, and had a fear of slipping and breaking a bone. After a previous conversation just a matter of days ago, Richie learned that Eddie didn’t spend much time in Derry’s Aladdin Theatre. In fact, he didn’t watch many movies, much to Richie’s complete and utter dismay. What nineteen year old didn’t watch a lot of movies? But, to be fair to his new friend, Richie had always depended on movies from a very early age. As a young kid, he couldn’t quite get the hang of making friends because he wasn’t very good with boundaries and knowing when to keep his mouth shut. So, instead of spending days outside with friends, he spent them inside in front of the television - in fantasy worlds with the most brilliant characters. He was born in the late 80’s, which made him more of a 90’s kid, but he grew up on the most classic 80’s films: _The Goonies, E.T., Stand By Me, The Breakfast Club, The Lost Boys._ He found an affinity with the losers, the loud-mouths, the drop-outs, the rejects. They were his people, and watching them on the screen, holding their rightful place in their friendship groups, he found comfort.

Plus, they were always the coolest characters.

He also felt a strange affinity to Eddie. Richie sensed they were probably quite different, but also very alike. Again and again, Richie had been pulled back to Derry Coffee, not just because of his sweet-tooth or through convenience, but out of hope he’d see Eddie there, waiting behind the counter. He’d visited Derry Coffee a couple of times while Eddie had seemingly not been there, and each time, he drained his mug quickly and left without so much as a glance over his shoulder. For Richie, it was difficult to be away from home and his friends. It was difficult to plant himself somewhere strange and isolated, with nobody to talk to. Within his first few days in Derry, he realised just how lonely he was without company, and just how badly he needed to talk, needed to fill the silence. He’d discovered a kind of rapport with Eddie, right from the day they’d first met, when Eddie had sarcastically shown his resentment towards his job, and had shyly attempted to reject the money Richie handed over as a tip. With Eds, his words tumbled out of his mouth like talking to an old friend. With Eds, it felt a little more like home. Opportunities to talk to anybody in Derry were strangely rare, Richie discovered early on, and even when they arose, his conversation starters were not always welcomed. But Eddie seemed to enjoy his company, just as he delighted in Eddie’s. And even better than that - Eds laughed at his jokes and when he didn’t find them funny, he retorted with that perfect light-hearted bitterness that seemed so out of place for someone who looked so doe-eyed and as sweet as the cookies he skilfully baked. Thirty-two years old and only _slightly_ better at making friends and dealing with people, Richie’s unintended outbursts, excitable chattering, stupid jokes and smart-mouth responses didn’t scare Eddie away. He looked as though he enjoyed every second. Like finding his people in his favourite movies, he found his person in Derry.

His person was rushed off his feet today, however, and Richie didn’t have much time to talk to him to begin with. Still, he enjoyed his food and drink, looking out of the window at a beaming sun that had finally started to grace Derry with its presence. The thought of going back to L.A. was slowly becoming something that Richie could deal with and be prepared for. It had only been a month since he’d arrived in Derry, and despite his ups-and-downs, he felt better for it. And although the thought of being home was less intimidating as it had been when he was actually there, dealing with the loss of his relationship, Richie had started to enjoy Derry. The slowness of it; the simplicity. There was a slow fire threatening to rage in the pit of his stomach though, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away from L.A. and the work he loved for very long. But for now, he was more than happy to spend each day doing absolutely nothing. Just a few weeks ago, having nothing to do was the bane of his existence. How could he get over Charlie when he had nothing else to focus on? But after reminiscing and seeing new things during his week around Maine, he felt more content to be lazy back here in Derry. To feel more like Richie Tozier again, and less like a robot. To sit in his childhood home and spin records for hours on end. To sit in the Aladdin, eating popcorn and watching movies, both excellent and terrible. To stretch his legs and take a walk to Derry Coffee. Maybe talk to Eds.

Today, Richie noted, Eddie looked quite tired. In fact, Richie had noticed this throughout the last week. Eddie’s brown eyes were dark underneath, as though he wasn’t sleeping well, and sometimes, when Richie would cast a glance in his direction, he’d see the boy daydreaming with a frown on his face, as though his mind was elsewhere. Having finally learned more about conversational cues and no longer carrying his childish habit of saying things without thinking first (for the most part), Richie hadn’t mentioned it to Eddie. But later, when he decided it was time to head home, Richie purposely went out of his way to pass Eddie on the way out.

“Eds?”

Eddie turned, briefly startled, before softening. “Hey.”

“Hey. I know you’re really busy right now - I’m on my way out anyway - but I just wanted to check up on you.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie was in the middle of clearing a table, stacking plates onto the tray in his hands.

“I mean,” Richie floundered momentarily, wondering if he was crossing a line by asking. But what harm could that do - asking how somebody is? “Are you okay?”

Eddie looked startled again, but this time, the look didn’t fade. “Am I okay?”

“Yeah.” Richie shoved his hands in his pockets, determined not to start fidgeting as he inwardly panicked. He hoped Eddie wouldn’t take offence, but he had to continue now. “You seem tired, is all. Guess they’re running you off your feet here, huh?”

Eddie relaxed. “Oh. Yeah. I’m a little tired. I’ve been putting in more hours here lately.”

Richie nodded and offered a gentle smile. “Thought so. Just make sure you get enough sleep, yeah?”

Eddie returned his smile. “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Good.” They stood in silence, a moment passing between them that was neither awkward nor comfortable. But it meant something, and Richie couldn’t grasp what it was. “Well,” he continued, shifting, “I should get going.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll see you later, Eds. You have a good one.”

“See you, Richie.”

Richie left quickly, glancing ever so briefly over his shoulder as he left through the door. But Eddie had gone, walking towards the front of the shop with his hands full.

As Richie walked home, he wondered whether he should have said more. Should he have asked Eddie if something was wrong? Because it seemed that way. But that would surely be crossing a line. They were practically strangers. Strangers who seemed to _click_ , but strangers nonetheless. The loud-mouth child in Richie, unrestrained by social cues and norms, thought it was more important to ask Eddie, and let him know that if, for whatever reason, he wanted to talk to him about it, he could. But the “sensible adult” in Richie figured that Eddie would probably feel uncomfortable with the proposition, and he didn’t want to do that to him. Especially since they’d been getting along so well.

He also wondered, very briefly, why he cared so much. But Richie always cared, about everyone. Sometimes too much.

* * *

 

It was two days until Valentine’s Day, and Eddie was finishing his late shift. Derry Coffee closed at 8pm and it was now nearly 9pm. The floors had been swept, the dishes had been cleaned and stacked away, and now Eddie could grab his things and go. He wasted no time and shot out of the coffee shop, heading for the drug store before it closed at 10pm. His prescription was due and he figured he had time to grab it tonight, saving him a trip the following day when he finally had a day off.

_The credits rolled and Richie grabbed his jacket, making his way into the foyer of the Aladdin Theatre. Briefly, he considered buying more popcorn, just to take it home with him, but ultimately waved the thought away. He’d had enough to eat and it was getting late. He wanted to get home, sit with a good book and get some sleep._

Mr Keene gave him the usual unfriendly sneer, but Eddie wasn’t phased. He’d spent enough time around the man and knew what to expect. He thanked him, though he didn’t really want to, and headed out of Center Street Drug. Eddie wanted to get home and out of the cold. He hoped he’d be able to avoid spending much time with his mom, preferring to spend the rest of the night upstairs with his notebook. He was tired, from work, and everything else, and needed to rest. Like Richie had suggested the last time he’d seen him. Eddie hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that day. A part of him was regrettable; perhaps he should have said more to Richie, or at least thanked him for asking. But the moment had taken him by surprise, because nobody ever asked and because, in that moment, Eddie felt as though Richie cared - really cared. Something passed between them in the moment of silence they shared before Richie left. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Was it a moment of understanding? A mutual feeling? But… of what, exactly?

_Richie passed a couple of stores, their artificial lights glowing, lighting up the side-walk where he slowly wandered home. A familiar store, Center Street Drug, stood out to him, and he paused for just a second, looking in through the glass doors. He remembered coming here a lot with his mom when he was a kid. He’d pester her to buy him candy and she always would, if only to shut him up. He smiled at the memory before walking on, remembering a short-cut up ahead._

Eddie was daydreaming, hung up on the things he should have said to Richie. He took his usual route home out of habit, forgetting that he’d been sticking to the side-walks that followed the main roads lately. That way, even if Henry found him, they’d be out in the open and how much damage would Henry be willing to do with people walking by and cars passing? In the back of his mind, Eddie figured that didn’t matter to Henry very much, but he also figured it was worth a try. However, busy with other thoughts, he walked on, taking the alley that ran behind the houses at the side of the road. The alley, dimly lit, was the same alley Henry had tripped him, scuffing his face. But he didn’t think about that now. He thought about Richie, asking if he was okay and telling him to get more sleep, as though he cared. Eddie smiled to himself.

“Hey, Wheezer. Nice of you to finally join us.” A voice in front of him. Sudden and close.

Eddie only had a second to think _‘oh shit’_ , and realise his mistake, before he was grabbed by his coat collar and thrown to the ground with a force so hard he dropped his pharmacy bag, spilling its contents.

“Look,” Henry grabbed the box that read ‘Albuterol Sulfate’, his aspirator refill, then turned back to Eddie. “Is this the shit that helps you breathe, Kaspbrak?”

He was on the floor, chest pounding. Behind Henry stood his three friends, sniggering and towering over him. Eddie heard another boy drop the word ‘faggot’ before there was a wave of laughter.

“I asked you a question.” Henry crouched before him, holding his medicine box in front of his face.

“Yes.” Eddie said weakly, answering the question. He was outnumbered. There was no point in trying. His chest tightened and he thought about the day he managed to run away from them. He felt strong then, but now, he felt weak. Same old Eddie.

“Then you won’t be needing it.” Henry turned and hurled the medicine. Eddie thought he heard it clatter in the distance. “You’ve been avoiding us, haven’t you, princess?”

The others laughed, moved closer. They stood around him, looking down. Eddie tried to keep his head up but didn’t look at them. His palms were sweating and his legs felt frail. There was a cold sweat prickling the back of his neck, and he tried so hard to ignore the familiarity of these symptoms. Around him, the gang were talking. Asking him things, laughing, yelling. But Eddie was zoning out. Panic was rising in his throat and his ribs.

“I don’t think he’s listening, Henry.”

“I’ll make him fucking listen.”

“Thought you could hide from us.”

There was a sharp pain, sudden and excruciating, bringing him back to life. His ribs were throbbing, and he realised he’d been kicked in the stomach. Eddie knew he should try to get to his feet, try to get away from them, get to safety. But he knew he couldn’t.

_Eddie-bear, just lay down and take your beating._ His mother’s voice swam in his head. _It’ll be over before you know it, and you’ll be back at home with me._

He was dizzy and somebody kicked him again. A hard thud that made him heave. He thought he might be sick, but he coughed instead. A harsh, throaty cough that hurt, and he could taste blood. The cough turned into a fit, which wasn’t helped by Henry’s taunting. Somebody pushed him so he was lying flat and Eddie fought to sit up but couldn’t. His throat tightened and even before he started to have trouble breathing, Eddie knew he was having an attack. _Sit up,_ he thought to himself, _sit up straight and get your aspirator. It’s in your pocket._ But he couldn’t sit up. Not just because he couldn’t breathe, but because there was a heavy foot on his chest. Patrick Hockstetter had him pinned to the floor and was smirking down at him.

“Please.” He heard himself talk, but it was distant, as though it had come from somebody else. His breathing had turned rapid, his shoulders heaving along with every quick breath he pulled in, but he was barely getting oxygen. Somehow, Eddie managed to reach into his pocket, fingers grazing his aspirator.

“What’s he doing?”

“I dunno.”

“Check his pocket, Patrick.”

Patrick grabbed the aspirator before Eddie could, and flashed it to Henry. “I don’t think he needs this, Henry.”

Eddie couldn’t prevent the panic from washing over him completely. In this moment, he couldn’t function. He couldn’t think about anything else, and he certainly couldn’t remain calm. His body felt slick with sweat and he coughed and wheezed, all the while trying to breathe. In Eddie’s mind, the aspirator was his only hope and although he knew that, under other circumstances, he might be able to relax and steady himself, he knew that this was not one of those situations. Henry and his gang wouldn’t allow that. They wanted him to suffer. And Eddie wondered what would happen if they grouped around him and simply watched. He could only hope they would do that, because the alternative would probably be worse. He’d rather deal with an asthma attack than an asthma attack with a simultaneous beating.

“Hey!”

There was another voice from further down the alley, and Henry and his friends paused. It seemed like a lifetime before there was any more movement or any more sound, though it was probably only a matter of seconds. Henry gave his orders and the group scattered, running in the opposite direction of the new voice. There was a ‘clank’ as Patrick dropped Eddie’s aspirator.

As Henry and his gang’s footsteps quietened, new footsteps came closer, fast and heavy. Arms were wrapped around him and began to prop him up, quickly but gently. Eddie couldn’t see, he was too focused on his collapsing body and his vision was blurred. But whoever was there was helping him, or trying to. Eddie tried his best to point in the direction of his aspirator. He’d heard the unmistakable sound of it dropping to the floor, and knew it had to be nearby. The strong arms that had propped him up carefully unravelled themselves, and the person disappeared for a couple of seconds. Eddie pushed himself to stay upright, his fists clenched and his nails piercing the palms of his hands. The person returned and grabbed one of his hands, passing him the aspirator. Then the person spoke.

“I need you to try to calm down. Try to breathe, Eds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everybody who's following this. ~


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